


Punk

by Adarian



Series: Punk [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-21 20:23:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 25,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7402561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adarian/pseuds/Adarian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky and Steve spend their childhood in 1920s Brooklyn and in a society that holds the promise of future equality for all, a bright economic future, and the chance to live an authentic life on one's own terms. Yet their teenage years are spent in a world that is quickly becoming dark and twisted. Their adult years are nothing like they thought they would be as two childhood friends who come of age at the exact wrong time, who slowly fall in love as it becomes less and less safe to express their feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1925

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not known for long Authour's Notes, but this is a bit of a special circumstance. I feel like I almost need to justify why I'm writing this fic. I don't typically write M/M (sometimes, but not often). I typically only write in the Bioware world with a few forays here and there when inspired. But this piece has sort of sat in my chest as I've been reading other fics with this pairing as I definitely enjoyed a lot of the more historical pieces, but I wanted something that better captured the feeling I wanted, the slow burn, the "will they, won't they" that comes from living in a society that once held the promise of acceptance and quickly took it away.
> 
> It seems unfathomable to many of us, but until the early 1930s, homosexuality was generally accepted in working class neighbourhoods. But as conservatism grew in the United States, combined with a backlash against the decadence of the 1920s, it grew to be a very dangerous time for the LGBT community. Even Berlin, once arguably one of the most queer friendly cities on the planet, fell to the rise of fascism. 
> 
> I just became so infatuated with these childhood friends who come of age at the exact wrong time, who fall in love in this world that neither of them were prepared for and is actively against them. I wanted to write something romantic and (probably) smutty, but I also wanted it to feel real. 
> 
> So that's it. That's my pre-amble. This is why I don't do meta stuff because then I just ramble. And again, so self indulgent and so self-important. I'm sorry.

**1925**

The first time Bucky ever saw Steve Rogers, he had a black eye and was pressing his hand down on his ribs through his coat, almost like he was Napoleon or something. It was fitting, seeing this tiny guy with his head held up while three boys twice his height were beating the tar out of him. The kid still had his fist up, even when he was spitting blood. 

Bucky basically tossed himself in front of them and told Steve to get out of there, but the little punk didn't want to run away from a fight. Bucky ended up staying, not wanting to leave him. He'd like to say he defended him, but he just ended getting up more done in than Steve, since he spent most of the time keeping his body in between the bullies and the boy who would become his best friend. 

When the bullies finally ran off, the two of them flopped down into the snow. Bucky stuck out his hand and Steve shook it, wheezing. 

"You okay?" Bucky asked.

Steve nodded, taking in shallow breaths. "I'll be fine, just give me a minute."

"You sure?"

Bucky wanted to point out the obvious, but he was eight years old and was raised to be polite. Steve was clearly not all right. He was younger than him, sure, but he was a tiny kid, barely bigger than his five-year-old sister. And that poor skinny kid had just had his ass handed to him.

Steve reassured, a hint of anger in his voice. "Fine."

His jacket was getting wet, so Bucky stood back up and offered his hand to Steve. He rejected it, standing on his own, though his knees looked like they were going to give out. 

"Can I walk you home?" Bucky offered.

Steve snorted, wincing. "I'm fine. My ma's a nurse, she'll patch me up."

"Maybe she can look at me too?" Bucky asked. "If I go home like this, my ma will lose it. She doesn't like me getting into trouble."

Steve considered for a moment and nodded. "Okay."

The first time Bucky ever saw Sarah Rogers, she was running out the door, demanding to know who had hurt her son. Bucky was a little scared of her, but her voice softened once she welcomed him into their house.  
Bucky was mostly quiet when Sarah cleaned up his face and bandaged his cuts. Sarah offered for him to stay for supper, but he left, wanting to be home before he got in trouble with his folks. 

His ma still noticed all the bandages and she was furious, though his pa was proud of him sticking up for a younger kid. Bucky didn't talk about the fight, even when his sisters asked him about his busted lip. Even toddler Livy was trying to poke at it until he pulled away, saying he was going to bed early. 

The bedroom was no real privacy. He shared it with Helen and Becca, all three of them curled up in a not particularly big bed. He kept asking for his own bed, but his parents promised when he was a bit bigger. He was jealous of Steve then. Didn't have to deal with no babies, had his ma all to himself. Real pistol too, wouldn't like to mess with Sarah Rogers. No wonder the little punk was like that. 

***

The next day they ate lunch together and the day after that. They started walking home together soon after. It was maybe a month before the pair had become inseparable. 

One night his ma decided that Steve and Sarah would come over for dinner to get to know Bucky's new friend a bit better. Bucky was nervous. He didn't know why he was nervous. Steve was a nice boy, there was nothing his ma or pa could complain about. And Sarah was great, even if he was still a little scared of her. It just felt like a big deal and he didn't know why it was one.

Dinner was good, though the table was too small for all of them. Mostly the adults talked and finally kicked them all upstairs. Pa went out for a smoke and the two mothers did the dishes in the kitchen. Once they got talking, Bucky crept down the stairs, wanting to hear how dinner had gone. He was worried it was a test to see if Steve and Bucky could stay friends and he needed to know if he passed.

Ma dried and Sarah washed. For a few minutes, they just talked about Steve and how great he was. Bucky felt proud. Dang right, Steve was the best. 

But then the conversation went somewhere he wasn't expecting. 

Ma asked softly. "How premature was he?"

Sarah sighed. "Six weeks."

Ma nodded. "You were sick, right, with the Flu?"

Sarah took a deep breath. "Yeah, when I was about five months pregnant with him. I was so sick; I thought I was going to lose him. And Joe had just died...Mary, it's a miracle that Steve survived. He was so little when he was born and he never really caught up. His lungs have never been good, I don't know if it was the Flu or being born too young. His asthma gets real bad in the summers and the winters he gets so sick, I always wonder...God, I wonder if he'll even get to grow up. I'll always blame myself. I shouldn't have been working when I was expecting. I shouldn't have-"

Sarah started crying and Mary hugged her tightly.

"I lost a baby during the Flu too," Mary murmured. "Had her maybe two months along before I lost her. It's not your fault, Sarah. You've done well by Steve. I want you to come to us if you need anything. He's a good kid and we just want good things for him. So you're both family now, do you hear?"

Sarah sobbed into her shoulder and Ma shushed her, stroking her hair. "There, there, it's fine. Nothing wrong with crying."

Bucky ran off and back to his bedroom. Steve was sitting on the floor with Becca, Helen, and Livy, helping to braid their hair.

"You okay, Buck?" Steve asked.

Bucky felt sick. He didn't want Steve to die. He didn't know how bad Steve was. It explained all the coughing and the wheezing. Without thinking, Bucky pulled the top blanket off the bed and wrapped it around Steve.

"You look cold," Bucky said.

"Fine," Steve said. 

Steve opened up the blanket and brought the two younger sisters underneath it with him while he finished Becca's hair. 

Steve and Sarah went home soon after. Bucky wanted to ask Ma about Steve, but he knew she'd get mad at him for eavesdropping. So he just let it be. It couldn't be that bad, he reassured himself. If Steve were that sick, he wouldn't go to school. Sarah was probably just over cautious, like his Ma was. Just in case, Bucky would make sure that people left Steve alone. A few kicks in the ribs weren't good for anyone, especially not anyone with bad lungs. 

He didn't think Steve was going to die...but he didn't want to take no chances with his best friend. 

***

Bucky would never forget the first time Steve really got sick. His bronchitis turned to pneumonia and he was housebound for near two weeks. Bucky tried visiting the first day, but both his ma and Sarah refused, not wanting him to catch ill himself. So Bucky eventually figured out how to climb the tree by their house and open Steve's window from the outside. 

They'd read together in bed, talking and laughing. Bucky would hide if he thought he heard Sarah coming. He told his own Ma he was playing with the Henderson boys. 

When Steve started getting cold, Bucky would lie in the blankets with him like he did with his sisters. One time Bucky fell asleep with him, only to be woken up just past nine by Sarah. He panicked but she told him to go back to sleep. 

It was the first time Bucky ever slept over, but it became just a thing he did in the winter. An extra body was warmer and Steve couldn't go play outside when it was really bad out. Both Ma and Sarah had given up trying to explain to Bucky that he could get really sick, but he didn't care. Steve needed him and he missed Steve when he wasn't there. 

They spent New Years Eve together at the Barnes' house. Sarah had bundled up Steve so much, he looked like a week's worth of laundry. The adults had their party and they played upstairs with Bucky's sisters and a few other kids. All the big kids decided to kiss someone at midnight, but Steve wanted to stay out of it, worried he'd get someone sick.

At midnight, Bucky gave him the briefest peck and everyone else laughed, calling Bucky a cad and a jokester. Steve rolled his eyes and pushed him away. 

Bucky did end up getting sick shortly after, ironic considering he had spent time with Steve when he had actual pneumonia and was fine. When Bucky was in bed with the nasty cold, Steve came and took care of him. He knew all the best things to do, being so sick so often. Bucky thought he'd make a good nurse too, if guys were ever nurses. Couldn't see him be a doctor. Doctors give bad news and make you give them money you don't got. Nurses just help people and work long days and don't get paid that much. That seemed more the sort of thing Steve would do.


	2. 1926

**1926**

Summers with Steve were great. They'd explore the city and, get into all sorts of adventures. And when they weren't in school, they spent all day together and usually slept at Steve's house. If someone saw Bucky without Steve, they'd worry the little guy was sick again and ask after him. 

One night Bucky had to stay at his place and Steve had to go to his, so they hung out at Bucky's for a while in the afternoon. Eventually Ma reminded Steve he had to get back home and he got up to go.

"See you tomorrow!" Steve called out. 

"See you tomorrow, punk!" 

"James Buchanan Barnes!" His mother cried. "You go and apologize to that boy this instant!"

"What'd I do, ma?" Bucky grumbled. 

"We do not call our friends that, do we, Bucky?"

Steve and Bucky exchanged a glance and both asked, "Punk?" 

"Yes," his ma hissed. "That is not a nice word. Now go apologize or I'll wash your mouth out with soap, do you hear me?"

"Sorry?" Bucky said skeptically.

"No problem," Steve accepted. "I'll see you at school tomorrow, okay?"

Steve walked off and Bucky turned to his mother, who was still glaring at him.

"Why is it a bad word?" Bucky asked, frowning.

She blushed. "You...you ask your father. But it's not very nice, Bucky. Now, go get started on your homework or you're going to fall behind."

Bucky did as she asked, waiting until his pa finally came home from the factory. He waited impatiently as his pa hung up his hat and shucked off his boots. He waited until he kissed his ma's cheek before asking loudly, "What does punk mean?"

His pa burst into laughter and his ma covered her face in her hands.

"Come on, kid," he said, still chuckling. "Let's go have a talk while ma finishes dinner. Just us two men, eh?"

They went out to back, sitting on the stoop in the alley. His pa lit a cigarette and after a few puffs, offered it to Bucky. Excitedly he tried a drag, but only ended up coughing, his eyes watering. His pa tried not to laugh.

"So, what's this then, what's your ma getting upset about this time?" 

"I called Steve a punk, but I do it all the time, I don't know why it's a big deal."

"Did he hit ya?"

Bucky frowned. "No."

"All right...Buck, I guess it's time we've got to have a talk. You're almost a man now, you can learn about these things. We talked about the birds and the bees, yeah? How babies get made?"

Bucky nodded.

Pa took another drag of his cigarette. "Well, sometimes fellas try that sort of thing with each other. Don't know what they get out of it, but there you have it."

"But men can't make babies."

"No, sir!"

"Then why do they do it?"

"Damn if I know, Buck. Them pansies aren't bad people generally though. Got a few who work with me at the factory. What they do in their off time is their business. But see, son, sometimes people call them punks, especially the real little skinny ones. And some people don't take too kindly to that and your boy Stevie's already got enough people chasing after him. You don't need to give them more of a reason. Now, I know you're just fooling with him, but you're both growing up. Don't want to give people the wrong ideas, especially with the two of you so close."

Bucky's heart jumped into his throat. "Would they hurt him?"

"Most? Nah, especially around here," Pa said. "But he's a good kid and I don't want to see him roughed up. Same with you, but I mean, you'd probably be the one-"

Pa blushed slightly. "Never you mind that, Buck. Just don't call him that, okay?"

Bucky nodded.

"Good, now go wash up. I'm starving."

***

After Bucky told him, Steve said nothing for a while. They lay on his bed, staring up at the water stains on the ceiling.

"Would you like me still if I was one?" Steve asked.

Bucky laughed. "Are you? You've been mooning over Minnie for months."

Steve agreed, "Yeah, I know. But what if I was? Would we still be friends?"

"I don't know, would you want to do...that with me?"

"You? Ew." Steve laughed. "No way."

"Then we'd be fine," Bucky said, shrugging.

"Then you can still call me a punk if you want," Steve said. "I don't mind."

"I just thought it meant you were scrawny."

"Hey!"

"Well, you are, and wouldn't you rather have that then have people thinking you're...you know. A pansy."

Steve thought about it and then said, "I think if I had the choice of being healthy and being a pansy or being me...I might pick the other." 

Bucky shoved him affectionately away. "You're fine the way you are, punk."

Steve grinned at him and Bucky relaxed. They were good.

***

One day he came to walk Pa home from the factory. The steam whistle blew and Bucky waited excitedly for Pa. The shift started clearing out and Bucky saw him. Pa grinned and Bucky ran over, hugging him.

"What a surprise!" Pa laughed. "You come to protect me from all these lugs?"

The man beside him asked, "Is this your boy James then?"

Pa grinned. "One and only. Buck, this is Rob. Rob, this is my son."

"He talks about you every day," Rob said. "All of you kids. I heard you're doing really well in math. Good work, I've never been very good at it. It sounds like you're a real smart boy, aren't you?"

"And he's taking up track already," Pa chimed in. "Going to be a star athlete too."

Rob laughed. "I know, you'll never let me forget that, Jim. 'Rosy future, my Buck has. Going get a sports scholarship to the best colleges, make himself a good career and find a really pretty wife.' Your pa thinks you're the moon and stars, James. It's nice to see. Not every boy gets along so well with his father."

Bucky beamed. Normally he didn't like people calling him by his Christian name, but he liked the way Rob said it. He liked Scottish accents, they reminded him of his granddad. 

Pa shook his head. "Can't respect a man who doesn't respect his son. Your father has a responsibility to you. Love you, protect you, and make you a man of your own. I try to do right by my kids, especially my boy. Girls are easy. Treat them kind, spoil them, make sure they've got some schooling, and keep the letches from them. Boys you've got to raise to be the head of the family. Learn how to treat ladies right, get a good job, protect your kin."

"At least my pa managed to teach me two of those things," Rob joked. "The ladies can't say I treat them poorly."

Pa laughed and slapped him on the back. "You certainly don't. Easiest way not to break a dame's heart is to go after a man's, huh?"

Bucky practically jumped up in excitement. He wanted to ask Rob all sorts of questions, but didn't want to be rude. 

"Pa, can we bring Rob over for dinner? Please?" Bucky asked.

Rob raised an eyebrow and looked at Pa.

"I don't know how much your ma would like that," Pa said. "She don't like having guests over she doesn't know about. Throws off her portions, she says."

"She's okay when Steve comes over."

"Steve eats less than a bird," Pa countered.

"Okay, well tomorrow then, right?" Bucky asked. 

Pa sighed. "I'll talk to her. Rob, you interested in dinner tomorrow?"

"I'll have to cancel my dinner with the Queen, but I imagine it'll be fine."

Pa chuckled. "Fine, that's what we'll do then."

Pa put his arm around Bucky and they started walking back home. 

"Nice surprise having my boy waiting for me," Pa said, ruffling his hair. "Now, tell me what trouble you got up to today. Your buddy pick anymore fights? I tell him, they have to make a new boxing class for him. Ultimate light weight."

Bucky would normally argue with anyone who tried to make fun of Steve, but he knew Pa liked him and was just teasing. 

"You know, your Ma and I have been talking," Pa said. "You're going to be 10 next year, getting a bit big for sharing a bed with your sisters. Especially if you're like me and your uncle George, we both started growing like weeds then. We're going to clean out the attic and get you a bed of your own. It'll be tight, but then you'll get some privacy at least. Sound good?"

Bucky hugged him. "Sounds great."

"No need to get all mushy on me," Pa teased. "I'm being selfish. That way your pal can come stay with us and you're not practically living at the Rogers' every summer. I was thinking this weekend we can go to a Dodgers game. And yeah, Steve can come too. I don't see his ma taking him out to sports, don't seem the type."

"You're the best, Pa," Bucky cheered.

"Yeah, yeah, you already got what you wanted, no need to butter me up."

***

Bucky had never slept in a bed alone and demanded Steve stay over the first night in the attic. It was hot as hell and they both slept on top of the covers, sweating like pigs. They talked for hours about the Dodgers and how much they hated the Giants. Pa who took them now every weekend, though in the cheapest seats possible. Steve had gotten really into baseball and Pa was delighted. 

Sometimes when it was really quiet, Bucky could hear the people on the second floor. Mostly snores, but sometimes arguments if his parents really raised their voices. It was mostly indistinct, but hearing his name one night, he started to pay attention.

"It'd be one thing if you were just taking Bucky, but that's another seat every weekend, Jim. It adds up. There's our trip to Atlantic City right there every season. I like Steve, but we can't afford it. Maybe if Sarah paid for him or you went every other weekend maybe..."

"Mary, the boy needs a man in his life. I like Steve but he's so...you know. With the arts and the painting and the reading. He needs a father figure so he gets started the right way in life. I found something he likes, something he can bond with other boys with. The more that kid can blend in, the better. Better for Bucky too. He'd follow that kid into hell and back and I'd rather him not have to do it."

"Okay, darling. At least maybe cut down on the hot dogs a little."

"Have you seen the kid? He needs every bit of meat he can get."

Ma laughed. "Fine. You can get hot dogs."

"I'll spend my entire Christmas bonus on you and the kids," Pa promised. "We'll go away for a few days, just you and me. Sarah already said she'd watch the wee ones. And they'll have new clothes and a really nice present, maybe even two depending on the sales. It's been a good year at the factory, Mary, and I want us to be comfortable. I grew up in a tiny house pinching every penny, I don't want that for our kids. I want them to enjoy things."

Their voices grew quieter and Bucky smiled into his pillow.


	3. 1927-8

**1927**

There was no doubt in Bucky's mind that Steve was braver than he was. Not everyone would think that, getting a good look at them. It was Bucky who wanted to go on the Cyclone, opening week. They waited in line for a near hour, the entire time Bucky itching to get in and Steve growing more and more queasy. But as they got up to the front, hearing the people screaming, suddenly Bucky started panicking. It was Steve who made him see it through, sitting firmly in the seat beside him.

"If I'm doing this, Barnes, you've got to too," Steve said firmly. "I didn't wait all this time just to do it on my own."

Bucky strapped in and closed his eyes. When they took off, he screamed and Steve grabbed his hand. They both shrieked and held on for dear life. Bucky opened his eyes, watching Steve's expression. The kid looked fearless, like he was facing the ride and taunting it to do its worst.

When they got off, Steve made it about five steps before he threw up. People waiting groaned and Steve went red. Bucky got him into the shade and bought him a ginger ale, stirring it first to flatten it as much as possible. Steve drank it slowly and then they walked for a while as his stomach recovered.

"I'm never doing that again," Steve swore. "I can't believe you talked me into that."

"Hey, I wanted to run. You were the one who made me stay."

"Yeah, because you wanted to do it and I didn't want you to use me as an excuse."

Bucky turned and saw that Steve was crying.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Bucky reassured, holding him at arm's length. "What's wrong?" 

"Can't even go on a stupid roller coaster without throwing up," Steve muttered. 

"Steve, you ate like five hot dogs and a milkshake before we got on the thing. I'm surprised you didn't throw up in line."

Steve smiled and Bucky gave him a playful shove. "Come on. You're fine, punk, just as you are. I like you fine."

"I like you fine too," Steve said. 

"You still up for dinner at my place tonight? Just don't yack on ma's new tablecloth, she'd murder yeah."

Steve shoved him back, laughing. "All right, let's go."

***

While Rob had never actually came over to dinner, Pa surprisingly invited him to a baseball game with Steve and Bucky. Rob seemed right at home in the stands, cheering and hollering. 

The two adults fell into conversation, letting Steve and Bucky trail behind them. Once they got to the train station, Rob pulled Steve slightly to the side and talked with him for a few moments. Eventually Rob ruffled his hair a bit and said his goodbyes before heading in the opposite direction.

Rob would come with them every once in awhile for the next two summers. He was nice, usually bought the boys ice cream and spent the afternoons joking around with Pa. Bucky liked seeing them. He liked the idea that one day when he was married and had kids, he'd take his boys to Dodgers' games with Steve and everyone would have a fun time. 

Bucky was never told he shouldn't tell his mother, but he didn't mention it. It seemed like the sort of thing she wouldn't like.

**1928**

The first time Bucky ever saw a pair of men hold hands was on a hot summer's day on Coney Island. They were both long, lanky, their willow fingers entangled together. They only had eyes for each other, laughing and grinning. 

Steve called his attention and Bucky turned away, going back to his friend.

At the end of the night they didn't have enough money to get a ride home, so they ended up walking most of the way. Bucky's hand brushed against Steve's and Steve took it lightly. Bucky hesitated before fully clasping it in his own. 

No one said anything to the two boys, only to tell them to get home safe.

***

In late August, Pa took them up to a campground not far from the city. Lots of people went out there and the place was busy with families. Both the Barnes and Rogers families were squeezed into this tiny little cabin. Bucky and Steve didn't care, so used to sharing a bed already.

Neither of them were great swimmers but they swam every day at the lake, trying to improve. Bucky was starting to gain some muscle, but poor Steve still looked like a scarecrow. They kept to the shallows, sitting in the cool water by the rocks while Bucky's sisters played nearby. 

There was this girl, Penelope. Both of them instantly liked her and she took them into her group of friends, kids that came up to that campground every summer. She seemed to like Bucky more, but she was nice to Steve and told another girl who was picking on him to stuff it. Steve went along with their adventures easily and quickly won most of them over. 

On the second to last day, their group climbed up the hillside and to the cliff looking over the lake. The six of them looked down in amazement and it wasn't too long before Penelope was trying to egg someone on to jump. It was high, but people in the Olympics jumped higher every day. 

Both Steve and Bucky were terrified. They could barely swim and they didn't want the girls to know that. 

"Come on, Bucky," Penelope teased. "You're the oldest. A little water shouldn't scare you that much. I bet you can do it."

Bucky shook his head. "No way. You go first."

Another girl, Lisa said shyly, "I'll go if you go, Bucky."

Bucky took a step back from the edge, sick to his stomach at the sight of it. He instinctively put his arm out to stop Steve from doing something foolish.

Penelope put her hand on Bucky's shoulder and he blushed.

"Come on, handsome," she purred. "I'll even give you a helping hand."

She pushed Bucky off and he screamed in surprise. He tumbled towards the lake and put his arms out, only to smack his head against a rock and plummet towards the bottom of the lake. 

He remembered nothing of those moments except for someone grabbing him and dragging him towards the surface. He was suddenly on the grass, coughing and sputtering. He looked over to see Steve beside him, trying to catch his breath. Bucky hugged him, instinctively trying to keep him warm. 

Steve wheezed. "Bucky, you're bleeding. We got to get you help."

Bucky tried to stand, his knees giving out. Steve helped him to his feet and Bucky leaned against him as they tried to get back to the campsite. They didn't make it far before Steve's lungs fought back and he gasped, trying to breathe. 

An adult saw them and brought them to safety. Much of that hour was a mystery to him, but he remembered asking again and again if Steve was okay and no one would tell him. 

Once Sarah declared they were both out of danger, the boys were put into bed and wrapped in warm blankets. Steve slept in Bucky's arms, both not truly thinking about what they were doing. They just needed to hear the other's heartbeat.


	4. 1929-1932

**1929**

Bucky went to New Hampshire for Easter to see his uncle. It was the furthest away he had ever been from home and while he enjoyed it, he was constantly homesick. The Rogers came over for dinner and Bucky and Steve talked the entire time excitedly. Bucky noticed he had a few more bruises than he had when he left and Bucky asked Steve about it once they were alone. 

Steve shook his head. "Nothing."

"Who hit you?" Bucky demanded.

"Would it make you feel better if I said I hit him first?" Steve asked.

"Not really, no."

"Don't worry about it, Buck. I'm fine."

"I'm never going away again," Bucky decided.

Steve rolled his eyes. "You can't protect me from every jerk in Brooklyn. I can survive on my own without you."

"Maybe I just want to stay because I missed you, punk."

Steve smiled with a wince. "I missed you too."

Bucky rescued Steve from ten fights that year, six of which he started. It was always something. Guy disrespecting a girl, guys picking on a boy even scrawnier than him. Once it was to protect the dignity of the Pope, which entertained Bucky to no end. It usually ended up the same. They would clean and patch each other up and the pair would just smile at each other in their strange way. Even without words, they understood each other. 

**1930**

On the first of the year, the factory closed. Pa joined his former co-workers out on the streets, trying to find any scrap of work he could. They started only eating two meals a day and Bucky drank more water than he used to, just to fill a bit fuller. Steve always shared his food with him, the little he had. The Rogers were poor as dirt, but Sarah only had the one mouth to feed. 

Steve got sick that winter, sicker than he had been in years. Bucky wasn't allowed to visit as Ma was worried he'd get everyone else in the house sick. So they wrote letters with paper Bucky stole from school. They often shared paper, one of them writing on one side, and the other flipping it over to reply. Steve sneaked out of bed every morning to put something in the mailbox. Bucky would get it on his way home, sticking his own in. They were kids, so it wasn't complicated stuff, mostly jokes or telling the other about their day. 

Bucky kept every one of them, hiding them under his bed so he didn't get in trouble. He'd find out years later that Steve did the same. 

**1931**

Pa started getting steady work making bullets. He talked often about his last job, about the characters he worked beside, about the details of refining sugar. But he never talked about working in ammunition, only to say that a friend had pulled a few strings to get it for him and he wouldn't be complaining.

Bucky went to walk him home one day and was shocked to see Pa walking out side by side with Rob. The two shook hands briefly before Rob headed the other direction. 

Bucky asked, "Did he get you the job?"

Pa said, "No, a mutual friend of ours, but he told me about it. Didn't want to tell your mother that we were still talking outside of work. She gets jealous sometimes, you know? Women are like that about fairies."

Bucky frowned. "But you're not one, so why does she care?"

Pa said, "Because there's only some things a man might do to another man and she thinks just because I won't get that at home that I'll go elsewhere to find it."

Pa suddenly realized what he had just said and cleared his throat. "Never mind that, Buck. I'm sure you know all about that sort of thing, but uh...let's just not tell your mother about any of this, that okay? Make our lives easier."

Bucky was curious, however, and found himself trying to research what exactly his father was talking about. He snuck into his favorite "book store" that typically had risqué postcards in the back. He sorted through them, sneaking a few of ladies into his pocket to think about later. He then saw what he was looking for.

A man leaned against a wall, mostly clothed but with his pants pulled down slightly. Another man was kneeling in front of him, sucking his cock. 

Bucky went bright red. He had seen one card of a girl doing that, but it was just a drawing. This was a photo. This was a man wrapping his fingers in another man's hair and thrusting himself into his mouth. 

Bucky was hard almost instantly and he fled from the store, leaving all the postcards but that one, which he refused to let go of until he got home. 

Bucky kept it with his other stolen pictures, but it quickly became his go-to for inspiration. He and Steve often traded cards or magazines, but this one he kept hidden until the day Steve fumbled upon it. 

Steve held it in his hand, frowning, and Bucky thought he was going to die of embarrassment. Steve clearly was going to think he was queer and get the hell out of there. But to his surprise, Steve's cheeks pinked.

"Can I take this one?" Steve asked shyly.

Bucky was too nervous to say anything and just nodded. 

He never got that postcard back. 

**1932**

Neither Bucky nor Steve could dance, a problem as now that they were now old enough to start going to school dances. They started practicing together on warm summer afternoons at Steve's place, the record player wheezing the jazz records that Sarah had been devouring.

Bucky saw Steve dance a lot that year and saw a lot of poor girls getting their toes stepped on or their hands squeezed too tight. But when Bucky led him, the pair fell easily step in step together.

"You're just going to need a real tall dame," Bucky teased.

"Regular girls don't want to go out with me, never mind giants," Steve muttered.

"Some girls like small guys. You're so little and cute, they'd want to put you in their pocket. My boy has the prettiest eyes, they'll say."

Steve laughed. "I don't think so."

Bucky shrugged. "I've always thought you got pretty eyes." 

Steve smiled. "You've got a nice nose."

"This honker?" Bucky rolled his eyes. "I'm going to poke a girl's eye out one day. You're the one with a nice nose. Cute as a button."

"Quit calling me cute," Steve protested, though he still grinned.

"Never," Bucky defied. "You're the cutest punk in the neighbourhood and once the word gets out, you'll never have an empty dance card." 

The record finished and Steve went to change it. He put on something slower and returned to him. Bucky took his hand in his, adjusting to the new tempo.

"So how do you seal the deal?" Steve asked nervously. "Once you get this far."

Bucky had only kissed two girls in his life so far and neither time had gone spectacularly well, but he played along. "Well, first you've got to look deep in her eyes, like you haven't noticed anything else about her body."

"And then?"

Bucky shifted his hand to Steve's waist. "Go slow, that way you can slide back if she starts getting mad at you. Then bring her in a little closer to you, until you're close enough to whisper in her ear."

Steve pulled in close, his lips a breath away from his. "And then?"

Bucky felt a shock go through him and he turned off the record player. "Sorry, I've just...I'll be back."

Bucky fled to the washroom and dashed cold water on his face and his neck. He had been getting...getting going from dancing too close. Just friction. And this happened sometimes just from a stiff breeze. It didn't mean nothing, had nothing to do with...

"Buck, are you okay?"

"Fine," he squeaked out.

Bucky eventually recovered, but he left the rest of Steve's lessons to his sisters. 

***

Bucky started running track soon, encouraged by his father. He liked running long distances, liked being able to focus. Even after practice, he'd still run home. He started going to meets and even won the odd medal. Now that Pa was working again and he was eating enough, he was doing better in school too. He was near the top of most of his classes and had the highest mark in his math course. He threw himself into school, trying to convince himself that maybe he could still get ahead. If he worked hard, harder than he ever had in his life, maybe he could go to college. 

When he wasn't running, he and Steve poured over their books together. Steve was a grade younger than him, but he was an avid reader and picked up things quick. Bucky learned more studying with him than he did with most kids his age. And besides, Steve was his best friend. If he had him, he didn't need no one else.


	5. 1933

**1933**

When Bucky asked Steve what he wanted to do for his birthday, Steve immediately asked to go to Harlem. Bucky was confused at first, as he had no idea why Steve would ever want to cross over into Manhattan. When Bucky asked him exactly what he wanted to do in Greenwich, Steve muttered something about jazz, blushed, and ran from the conversation.

Bucky asked him again the next day and Steve said that he wanted to see a show with some girl named Jean. Bucky hadn't heard of her, but Steve really wanted to go and was scared to go alone. 

Bucky phoned Rob since he lived the furthest north of anyone he knew and probably was more familiar with south Manhattan. Rob laughed for a few minutes straight.

Rob finally recovered. "Buck, I know what Steve's talking about, but I don't know if it's a good idea. You're both kids and a pansy club ain't a good place for either of you. If you were a little older, maybe, but your pa will never forgive me if I let you both get drunk off your asses and kidnapped by queens."

"Wait, what?" 

"I ain't surprised. It's a big thing right now, all sorts of folks go to the Village and to Harlem to see the shows. If there weren't any drinking, I'd say go for it."

"But what if we didn't drink?" Bucky asked. "Would you take us then?"

"Buck-"

"Please," Bucky insisted. "He's my best friend and he never asks for nothing. If he wants to go see some guys pretend to be girls, then I'd like to make it happen."

Rob sighed. "Let me talk to your pa. I ain't doing this behind his back. Go put him on the phone, will yeah?"

Bucky really didn't want to, but he finally agreed. He waited impatiently while Pa laughed and chatted back and forth with Rob. Eventually they said their goodbyes and Pa turned to Bucky, his arms across his chest.

"You're too young," he said. "I've got no trouble with you seeing some sort of show, but if Steve gets arrested by the cops in some sort of raid, Sarah'll never forgive me. You know how she feels about liquor, your ma too."

"But Steve-"

"When Steve's a grown man, he can do whatever he wants and won't need to be getting you into trouble to do it. Now you go to your room and go do something productive. Go on."

Bucky did as he asked, but immediately started plotting.

***

Bucky had saved enough to get them to the club on the bus, but it hadn't occurred to him that he needed to pay until they got to the doors. Steve started panicking but Bucky was trying to negotiate their way inside. Their attempts were thwarted when Rob spotted them, groaning.

"I should have guessed," he muttered. 

He talked briefly to the doorman who let the three of them and Rob's friend inside. Bucky grabbed Steve's hand, shocked by what he saw. The room was absolutely crowded with men dressed strangely, some even as women. People were laughing and kissing and the few dames around were either in suits or making time with women in suits. 

Rob brought them to a table and someone came over to take their order. 

"We'll both have a gin and tonic and don't let these two drink anything but soda," Rob ordered. "You hear?"

The man giggled. "Sure, darling."

The bartender brought both of them a coke and they drank it slowly. The man sitting beside Rob seemed less than entertained by the presence of the teens, but he kept his mouth shut.

The audience applauded as a man walked out, his hair slicked back into a little curl. He opened with a series of jokes that neither Bucky nor Steve got, both glancing at each other in confusion. 

Then the singing and dancing began. Men dressed as women, women dressed as men, and pansy men all performing with confidence. It wasn't Bucky's sort of thing, as he was never a concert going type, but it was pretty fun. The main act, the one Steve had wanted to see, was a riot and at times had Bucky in stitches. 

When the actual show was over, the band began to play again and the dance floor was cleared. Rob paid for his drinks, apologized to his friend, and informed the teens that they were going home.

Steve, who had been quiet all night, asked, "Just a few dances first? Please?"

Rob sighed. "Two songs. It'll take that long to get a cab anyways."

Steve pulled Bucky out to the dance floor and Bucky suddenly felt incredibly embarrassed. Sure, he had danced with Steve before, but they weren't kids anymore, and now they were surrounded by queers who probably thought they were like them. And they weren't. Steve just wanted a laugh and he got one. 

They did move well together, though. Always had. By the time Rob dragged them both out to the street, he was almost having fun.

Rob gave the taxi driver instructions and enough cash to get them to New Jersey. Steve and Bucky stayed quiet until the car dropped them off a block away from Steve's house. The two snuck into his bedroom and got out of their nice clothes. 

"Why'd you want to go?" Bucky asked. 

Steve pulled back the covers. "Just did. Heard about it in Vanity Fair years ago. Didn't think I'd get to see it. Thought it'd be fun. And I like dancing with you. It's nice to go do that in a place where people don't laugh at you for doing it."

Steve stretched out before snuggling into his bed. Bucky lay beside him.

Steve yawned. "I feel bad ruining Rob's date though."

Bucky protested, "Nah, that wasn't a date."

"Bucky, you know he's gay, right?" 

He frowned at the word. It was something he only heard pansies use to talk about themselves. He didn't like Steve using it.

"Yeah, but the guy wasn't girly enough," Bucky said. "Rob's normal. He takes out the girls and treats them like ladies."

Steve rolled away, pulling the blankets with him.

"What'd I say?" Bucky asked.

"Nothing," Steve muttered.

"Did I hurt your feelings, Stevie? Because I didn't mean to."

Steve asked, "Those "girly ones" are normal too, Buck. Just because they're not what you think a man ought to be doesn't mean they're broken."

Bucky smiled. Bless Steve's soft heart. "You're right, I'm sorry. I didn't mean nothing by it. Maybe Rob's next date will go better once he doesn't have us mucking it up."

Steve asked shyly, "Maybe...maybe we could go back some time."

Bucky wanted to refuse outright, but knew it would just break his heart. "Maybe."

Steve fell asleep soon after, though Bucky couldn't shut his eyes. 

 

________

 

A/N: Okay, before you start wondering how realistic this is, go look up about the Pansy Craze. Also, here's some music by Gene Malin, the performer that they went to go see:


	6. 1934-36

**1934**

Bucky wasn't sure when exactly he realized he wasn't going to college. It had been building for a while, of course. Scholarships were disappearing quick and Pa was barely making enough to feed them all. He kept up with track, but he started boxing too. Boxing wasn't a sport for the educated types, but Bucky knew he wasn't ever going to be a scholar. And there was money in boxing.

He was sixteen during his first fight at the YMCA and he got his bell rung. He went back a week later and beat his opponent into the ropes. The first championship he won got him a cool hundred dollars, all of which he gave to his ma. 

It worried him how much he liked boxing. He'd been a fighter on Steve's behalf for years, but now he was just whaling on people for money. But it felt good. It made him feel in control. 

**1935**

Bucky barely finished high school. He wasn't proud of his marks, but he hadn't dropped out like most of the guys his age working in the factory. He ended up moving closer, a little boarding house near where he worked. Most of his paycheque still went home, as he still had three teenage sisters and a barely working father. At least now he was getting a bit more sleep.

He didn't see a lot of Steve that summer as Steve was working on his portfolio and needed natural light. In the fall Steve often came over to do his homework, the house too quiet when Sarah was at work. Usually when he did he'd make Bucky dinner and sandwiches for the next day. 

Bucky was growing more and more exhausted and Steve eventually convinced him to take a day off work. Steve skipped that day of school, which he never did, and they spent the day in the apartment. Bucky mostly slept and Steve woke him only to eat. It started raining and they ended up napping beside each other in Bucky's bed. 

When Bucky woke, Steve was gone. 

But the pattern continued, Steve spending more and more time at the apartment, doing whatever he could to make Bucky's life easier. Bucky's favorite moments were waking on a nap on the couch to the smell of dinner and Steve's gentle voice telling him it was time to eat. He'd open his eyes and sometimes Steve would touch his face, his delicate fingers against his skin. 

He loved Steve's touch; it was comforting in a way he couldn't explain. It made him feel human, even on the hardest of days in the factory. It was a reminder that he was worth something to someone. He craved that touch on long shifts when the monotony was getting to him and it soothed him, knowing that when he got home Steve would be there. Steve would stroke his face, his gentle fingers brushing through his hair. He would embrace him before leaving; his hands sometimes on the small of his back just because of their height difference. 

After a particularly grueling shift, it wouldn't feel like enough. Bucky wanted his skin on his, wanted Steve's touch like a man might want gin. He used to fight the thought of kissing him, but it only made it worse. He'd let the fantasy play out, brief as it was, and then went back to sleeping in the same bed with him. Not alone, not unwanted, not discarded. Loved and needed and cherished. 

Bucky had not expected his life to be like this at 18. He thought he'd be at university on a full ride for the track team. Be meeting all sorts of pretty girls and getting into all sorts of adventures. Maybe go do some traveling.

But now he canned fish. Day in, day out. He lived in a shitty one bedroom and was too exhausted to go out dancing or anything like that. The best thing in his life...well, the best thing in his life had always been Steve. Now it felt like he was the only thing in his life and he desperately clung to him like a life preserver. He was ever so grateful that Steve gripped him just as tightly, refusing to let him go. 

**1936**

Sarah Rogers was exposed to TB at the hospital and died within the week. Bucky was with Steve when she passed. He only left his side once during her illness, when Sarah wanted to speak to him alone. 

Bucky sat on the other side of the glass and Sarah reached over, pressing her fingers on the pane between them. 

Sarah murmured tiredly, "Do you love my son?"

Bucky said, "He's my best friend in the whole world. He's a brother to me."

She shook her head. "No. Do you love him?"

Bucky didn't understand what the difference was, but he agreed, "Yeah, I do." 

Sarah smiled weakly. "You'll take care of him?"

Bucky promised, "Always."

Sarah whispered, "Do you love my son?"

Bucky said, "You already asked me that, Sarah."

Sarah looked at him with a glassy expression. "He loves you."

Bucky said softly, "I'll let you get some rest."

She nodded, closing her eyes again.  
***

Steve paid for the burial out of his college fund, draining most of it. Bucky's family hosted the wake at least, taking some of the burden off Steve.

Once they had a quiet moment alone, Bucky asked Steve to move in with him. He refused at first, but then promised he'd think about it. 

The night grew later and Pa asked Bucky to have a smoke with him out on the stoop. 

Once they settled down, Pa said, "Steve told me you suggested he'd move in. I just want to make sure you know what you're doing," Pa said. "You've spent your whole life defending that boy and I've spent a lot of time trying to toughen him up. I know you're trying to look out for your friend, but you've got to think about what it looks like, Buck."

"What exactly does it look like?" Bucky asked angrily.

"Enough people think of Steve as a bit of a fairy and now you've got him moving in to be like your little woman. Maybe ten years ago no one would bat an eye and wouldn't care even if you were together. But this ain't ten years ago, Bucky. People aren't like they used to be. If you do this, you got to make sure people know you two aren't queer. Help him find a nice girl and get set up on his own. You just taking care of him while he learns to draw...it don't look good. I know you two ain't like that, but I don't want to see either of you hurt."

Bucky couldn't stop the next words that spilled out of his mouth. "And if we were?"

He expected Pa to look more shocked, but he just looked resigned. "I'd tell you the same thing, Buck. It's not safe for pansies anymore. And I know you're not. I've seen enough of the dirty books you hid under your bed. And if Steve is...well, most of the guys I knew like that either married dames and settled down or...people aren't as understanding as they used to be. If you want him to be safe, either way, you find him a nice girl."

"Pa-"

"Bucky, in Germany right now they are using people like that for target practice. And I'm not saying it's as bad here, because it's not, but people are saying and doing things they didn't use to. They're not Nazis, but they ain't the good guys either. Do you get what I'm saying? Steve already gets the tar kicked out of him on the regular and he doesn't do any favours for himself acting the way he does. He's a grown man now, he won't listen to me no more and he's not my boy so he don't need to. But he is your best friend. If you really want to take care of him, you gotta protect him from him."

Bucky felt his lip quivering and he tried to stop it. Pa rubbed his back and kissed his forehead.

"Life hasn't been fair to either of you, Buck," he whispered. "I know. This isn't what I wanted for any of you. But this is what it is. I know you're tough and I know you'll be all right. Wish I could have done more, but...I tried. God I tried."

His father had never looked so small to him as he did in that moment.

"You did just fine, Pa," Bucky murmured. "Just fine."

Pa took a last drink of his beer and stood, muttering something to himself.

"Pa?" Bucky asked. "What did you just say?"

He leaned against the beam and shook his head. "Won't help nothing, Buck. You should get back to Steve's place. He needs you." 

Bucky didn't want to leave him, but eventually he picked up his coat and went. Once he got to the Rogers' house, he felt sorrow overwhelm him. Sarah was practically a second mother to him and he hadn't really gotten the chance to say goodbye. Thinking back to the conversation he had overheard years ago, there was particular pain that Steve had just barely managed to make it to adulthood, but his mother would never see that. 

Bucky went out to the backyard, seeing Steve in the tire swing, shivering in the cold. Bucky put his own coat around him and brought him back into the house. He made tea for them and Steve said almost nothing.

"You don't have to do this for me," he said, in a voice so quiet it sounded like it belonged to someone else. A mouse maybe. Not Steve. 

"You'd do the same," Bucky said.

Steve didn't argue, just drank his tea. 

"You thought about what I said, about coming to live with me?"

Steve shook his head. "I can take care of myself. I don't want to be a burden."

"You won't be," Bucky promised. "It'll be cheaper for me having a roommate, once you've gotten on your feet. And for the little you eat, won't be any more expensive for me until you do. It'll just be like when we had sleepovers as kids. It's not good for you to be alone, Steve. You don't do well by yourself. And you're part of my family, I love you. I'm with you to the end of the line, you know that."

At the words "I love you", Steve raised his head to look at him. He had such pretty eyes; he was never sure how girls weren't always gazing into them. Bedroom eyes. 

"I love you too," Steve said.

The tone was different, the words sounding heavier than they needed to be. It made Bucky wish he could say it again, his words carrying this time the same meaning as he heard, maybe imagined, in Steve's voice. 

They didn't speak much for the rest of the night. They spent the next few days packing up the Rogers' house and Steve took his keys to his landlord. In less than a week, Sarah Rogers was dead, Steve barely had a penny to his name, and was now living with Bucky in a shitty one-bedroom in north Brooklyn. Despite everything, he seemed oddly calm. It worried Bucky, more than if he had been crying every day.

The first night Steve in the bed and Bucky slept on the floor, promising to get another bed when the stores opened on Monday. 

In the dark, Steve finally asked, "Buck...is your pa okay with me moving in?"

Bucky replied honestly, "He thinks it's going to give people the wrong idea about you and thinks I'm doing you no favours."

After a long pause, Steve said, "The floor's cold. You should share the bed with me if you're not going to let me sleep down there. We used to do it as kids; it's not a big deal. I barely take up any of it as it is."

Bucky slipped in beside him, pulling the blanket off the ground and around them. Steve fell asleep soon after, but Bucky couldn't, watching Steve in the winter's moonlight. Strangely enough, he thought of how Sarah must have felt she first came home with Steve from the hospital. She was alone, scared shitless, and expecting any moment for her baby, the one remnant of the man she loved, to die. It was almost how he felt now. How it felt to have something so beautiful, so dear to you, right beside you, terrified if you fell asleep they might stop breathing. 

Eventually Bucky dozed off, but it took him a near week to sleep normally again. That entire time, they kept talking about getting another bed, but they had settled into this routine. In the summer, they finally decided, when it was too hot and sticky to be beside the other. Give Bucky enough time to save up, even though they both knew that money would be spent on Steve's tuition soon enough. 

They spent Easter with Bucky's family, as they had for years, but it didn't feel right without Sarah. Bucky even tried going to Mass beforehand with Steve to make him feel better, but he felt like someone had dropped him in another country without a map. Steve was kind enough to tell him when to kneel, when to open his mouth for the wafer. He knew his Unitarian parents would be concerned by him taking the Eucharist, but he figured it was close to the same thing anyways. God was God. 

The dinner at the Barnes' was a nice change of pa ce from their meager diet and he had to admit he missed his family over the past few weeks. It wasn't like him not to visit for at least one dinner. He just couldn't face his father, worried what he'd say. Worse still, Bucky was worried he'd agree with him.

After the meal, Bucky went out to the stoop in the alley, seeing his father with his cigarette. Bucky sat down beside him. 

They chatted for a time, but eventually Pa asked him, "What's on your mind, Buck? Feel like you're avoiding me since the funeral."

"Just busy. Picking up a few extra shifts."

"It gets harder when you have another mouth to feed, doesn't it? You'll feel the pinch even more as time goes on. You ever get a bit strapped for cash, you come see me and we'll figure something out."

"We're fine," Bucky promised. "Just tuition. He's going to pay me back, it's just getting it upfront. He had to spend his savings for the funeral, so he don't-"

"You don't have to justify it to me. You're a grown man, you need to do what you gotta do. You don't need my permission or my approval."

Bucky swallowed. "But you're my father and I want you to be happy."

"You're doing the best you can, Buck," Pa said, patting his hand. "You always do. Let me at least buy you another bed so you can get a decent sleep."

"Ma told you."

Pa sighed. "Yeah, she told me. She was just worried about Steve's back, but it just...Bucky, I told you to be careful. People see that sort of thing, only makes it worse. You can get away with it now while it's cold, but not much longer."

"You're really worried, aren't you?" Bucky asked.

"Damn right I am," he murmured. "I love you both. Steve is practically a son to me. You know...God, I shouldn't be telling you this. It's his own business. Some queer made a pass at him the other day on the subway. I don't know why he told me, but you can't let that sort of thing happen to him, Buck. I'll give you a little fun money. You take him out dancing and meet some nice girls, okay? It's almost his birthday, they'll let him in."

"What if Steve never meets a nice girl?" Bucky asked.

Pa shrugged. "I don't know. He can't keep living with you once you get married and start having babies. He's a late bloomer, he'll find someone. I just want to see you both settled and happy, that's all. I want all my kids to do well."

He got up and stubbed out his cigarette.

Bucky hesitated and then asked, "At the wake, you said something to me that I didn't understand. You said it wouldn't help me anyways. What did you say?"

Pa sighed, running his hand through his slicked hair. "I said it would have been easier if he was a girl."

He went back into the house, leaving Bucky alone in the alley. He had a sudden urge to punch the side of the house, to kick down the garbage bin and throttle the mailbox. Anger flooded through him and he had no idea why. 

The door flung open and Bucky half expected to see his father, but instead Steve stood on the threshold, peeking around to see him.

"What's going on?" Steve asked, clearly worried. 

Bucky's chest relaxed at the sight of him. "Nothing...I'm...fine. Just need to go back to the gym, need to start boxing again."

Steve came out into the slush with no coat on and Bucky instinctively put his around him. Steve rolled his eyes.

"It's 50 degrees out, I'm fine."

"It's not with the wind," Bucky protested. "You shouldn't be out here."

Steve held the coat closed and looked up at him. "What did he say to you?"

Bucky could see the "Steve Rogers Hates Injustice" look in his eyes and he would have laughed if he didn't think Steve would punch him. 

"Let's get you back inside, punk," Bucky teased. 

Steve flinched slightly at the pet name and Bucky frowned. "What is it?"

"Just some assholes the other day," Steve explained, shaking his head. "Doesn't matter."

"Did someone hurt you?" Bucky demanded. "If they did-"

"Bucky," Steve reassured, "I'm fine. Nothing happened."

Bucky had only been started to wind down, but the rage started to build again. He kicked at the garbage can again, knocking it over. He stopped when he felt Steve's hand on his back, his delicate artist's fingers on his shoulder. 

"You want to go home?" Steve asked softly.

Bucky nodded, shaking.

"Let's go home then, Buck. I'll go get my coat."


	7. 1937

**1937**

In the past 18 months, Bucky had gone out with 22 different girls. He knew the exact number because his Ma counted them off while she chased him around the house with a towel, occasionally slapping his bottom with it. Apparently, Bucky had broken the heart of the daughter of one of his mother's friends. Bucky didn't think he had done anything wrong. He had taken Sherry dancing, had a few drinks, and walked her home like a gentleman. There had been no "funny business" and Steve had been there the whole time with Melanie.

God, Melanie. When was he going to stop hearing about her? _Bucky, why can't you be like Steve and stick with one nice girl? Bucky, why do you have to be a flirt when you could find someone you can start a life with? Melanie, Melanie, Melanie._

She was a sweet girl. It was nothing against her. She was a real tiny thing though, barely five feet and fit nicely with Steve. Mixed girl originally from Harlem, but she was so fair skinned he didn't think his Ma noticed. Not that she'd care too much, but still, he wanted Steve to just enjoy his first romance without any harassment from the family or anyone else.

Melanie and Steve had met at a dance hall and had been seeing each other for about five months at that point. Usually once a week or so he'd go out with them on some date or another with someone he'd have met on the weekend. Occasionally he dated someone a few times in a row, but that was becoming more and more infrequent. He was becoming more and more a stark contrast to the true gentleman that was Steve Rogers in love. 

Steve drew Melanie such beautiful things it'd make anyone weep. He'd bring her flowers, even the ones that flared up his asthma. He'd kiss her so sweetly, like she was the one who was delicate. They went to the movies and cafes a lot since neither of them was really into dancing. They even came to family dinner at Bucky's parents place a few times and both his ma and pa loved her. Two good Catholic kids in love and saving themselves for a life of wedded bliss and beautiful babies.

If it wasn't happening to his best friend, he might just find it sickening. It couldn't happen to a nicer guy. But it was giving his mother free lease to use Steve as the example of her "good son" to reign in her "no-good son."

Pa couldn't have been more pleased. He had offered Steve twice that he'd help pay for the wedding, but Steve would always just blush and say he wasn't quite ready for that, being only 19 and all. Bucky had to agree with him. Steve was still in school and while Melanie had been employed as a secretary for the past year, she suspected that her position might suddenly disappear as colour lines continued to be drawn up in the city. Steve of course would do his best to provide for her and she could always take up sewing or laundry if need be. He had heard them planning it on one of their double dates, the pair so engaged in conversation they forgot everyone else around them. They were turning less into group outings then Steve and Melanie showing off their perfect love and Bucky drinking while his date gazed at him longingly. 

He certainly did fool around with a few of them, but by mostly making them happy. He didn't like people touching him, felt wrong. But there was nothing about giving someone else a little bit of pleasure, not enough of that in the world. He loved the feel of a woman's body; there was just a sense that he wasn't supposed to be doing it. Like he had some vow he made a long time ago and no one remembered to tell him about it. He eventually figured it was Steve's Catholic guilt rubbing off on him.

When Bucky finally managed to get away from his mother, his sisters laughing at him, he made his way back to his own apartment. Grateful to have some space, he flopped down on the couch and loosened his shirt. He thought about getting a beer from the icebox but was too tired to do so. He snuggled into the cushions, delighted with the new pillows that Melanie had gifted them with. He was just starting to drift off before he heard the door open. He figured it was just Steve and ignored it, closing his eyes again. Then he heard giggling and kissing. He grumbled into his pillow. Steve was not alone, apparently. He decided to pretend to be asleep. There were only four rooms in the place, it's not like he had anywhere to go to give them some privacy and maybe this way they'd take the hint and leave.

He briefly glanced as they made their way to the bedroom, still giggling and heavily making out. Seeing that they left the door open, Bucky slipped out, grabbing a cigarette and his matchbook. He went out to the street, like he always did as to not upset Steve's asthma, and smoked his roll slowly. 

He doubted very much that anything too obscene was happening upstairs, but he wanted to give them some privacy regardless. Steve was always nice enough whenever Bucky brought someone home. Seemed only fair.

He had a second smoke, just in case, and finally went back upstairs. The apartment was quiet and he let himself back in, calling out, "Stevie?"

He heard something thudding and he ran into the bedroom, terrified that Steve was sick or that something had happened to him. Steve was instead on his own bed, throwing pillows against the wall angrily. His lungs were starting to wheeze from him crying so hard and Bucky grabbed his inhaler from the drawer and put it in his hand. Bucky coached him through his breathing, making sure Steve kept looking at him. Steve started to calm down and Bucky squeezed his hand.

"Are you okay?" Bucky asked.

Steve shook his head. "It's over."

"Melanie?" Bucky asked in surprise. "But you two were just messing around, weren't you? I can't imagine you're that bad with your hands."

He hoped Steve would laugh at the joke, but Steve teared up again. 

"I told her I was looking for a job for the summer, in the factory with your pa," Steve said, "and she said it wasn't a good idea. I told her I needed someway to buy her a ring and then she...she said we shouldn't get married because..."

He broke into sobs. "Because she wants kids and she thinks our kids would be sick like me and we couldn't afford to take care of them because I won't be able to keep a job. And then everything fell apart from there."

Bucky was conflicted, as Melanie's concerns were reasonable for her. She needed to look out for herself and her best interests and Steve was not a great economic prospect if that was what a girl was looking for. But it was Steve Rogers. He was compassionate and brave and creative and beautiful. Bucky was conflicted because he was heartbroken for Steve, but a strange sense of relief passed through him. He felt guilty and tried to ignore it and focus on his friend's pain.

"I thought she was the one," Steve said. "She loved me. She saw me like I am and she loved me and that's why she left me. I had a shot and I blew it. That was it, Buck, there isn't a girl out there who’s going to look at me like she did and even Melanie...I wasn't enough for her. Not enough for anyone." 

Bucky didn't know what to say and he stroked his back, like Sarah used to do when he wasn't feeling well. Steve pulled away from him.

Bucky's heart skipped a beat. "Steve...you know that's not true."

"You know it is," Steve protested. "That's why you asked me to come live with you. You didn't think I could hack it on my own and you're right. I can't."

Steve started sobbing again and Bucky held him. Steve buried his head into his shoulder, shaking.

Bucky said softly, "Steve, you're stronger than anyone else I know. You're sick sometimes, yeah, but you were healthy last winter, remember? And you don't need to work in a factory. You'll work with Ad men or with a newspaper. Lots of sitting, lots of resting. Be a nice cushy job for someone smart like you. You'll meet someone and it'll be just right."

Steve shook his head. "What if she's right? What if I can't keep a job?"

Bucky murmured, "Then I'll take care of you, like I always do. You've always got a home with me, Steve."

"Like a bum."

"No, like family," Bucky affirmed. "You take care of me. You know I've gained ten pounds since you've moved in? I swear you and my ma are teaming against my figure and me. I haven't had to wash a dish in months nor do laundry. I used to be dead at the end of the day after working and chores, but now when I come back everything is taken care of and I can just relax. And then I've got my best friend to come home to and you're just sitting in the living room, working on your art. You hum a lot when you draw, do you know that? It drove me nuts at first, but now it just reminds me that I'm home and not stuffing tuna in cans. I knew none of my neighbours when I moved in and now you have little old ladies dropping in every afternoon bringing tea and cake. Every five-year in this block knows your name and bolts here the minute they've got a scraped knee or a bully breathing down their neck. I just found out that you switch on and off all the lights on the Sabbath for the family downstairs. The grandmother wanted me to tell you that she made lemonade just for you because she knows you like drinking that with dinner. You're not a burden, Steve, you're a blessing to basically anyone who has ever met you. If my biggest hardship in this world is keeping you fed and sheltered, then I am the luckiest man in the world."

Steve's eyes met his and suddenly Bucky shivered. They had both been leaning in closer and now they were barely a breath apart from the other. Bucky pulled away. 

"I'm going to get a job this summer," Steve promised. "Start paying my own way."

Bucky smiled sadly. "Yeah, sure."

The rest of the night was typical break up fare. Drinking, complaining, crying. The pair of them eventually went to bed, both having things to do early in the morning. 

***

Bucky's shift ended an hour earlier than his father's, but it was still a brisk walk to get to the factory before the steam whistle. After it was blown, he waited for Pa, his shift significantly smaller than it had been when Bucky was a child. 

His pa saw him and waved.

"Now this is a surprise," Pa said cheerfully. "What'd you doing here?"

Bucky looked through the crowd. "Actually, I was hoping to talk to you about something, but just..."

"You okay?" Pa asked.

"Can we talk? Privately?" He asked.

"There's a little bar around the corner. We'll go get a drink."

***

Once they were settled in a booth, Bucky wasted no time. 

"You remember when Steve first moved in with me and you and I had a talk?"

"Of course," he said. "What's going on, Buck?"

Bucky tried to catch his breath. "When you said...when you said you were worried about Steve. Well, his girl just broke up with him."

"That's too bad, I liked her. He didn't do her wrong, did he? Because if he did-"

Bucky laughed. "Nah, you know Steve, he's not like that. It just didn't work out."

"So what does this have to do with that talk, son? People seen him making time with that girl all around Brooklyn. You don't have to worry about people getting the wrong idea about him. I'm glad. Too bad about Melanie, but the right one will come along in time."

"I meant...were you worried about people getting the wrong idea...about me."

His father's nostrils flared slightly. It was his tell when he played cards. He was trying to hold back how he actually felt and it made Bucky weary.

"Son," he said, putting his hand on top of his. "You're not the sort of guy people peg for that sort of thing. Besides from what your mother told me you've had your hand of half the skirts this side of Manhattan."

"But what if I was like that too?"

The question had escaped almost as a squeak. Pa looked at him and frowned, slowing taking his hand away.

"Buck," he whispered. "If you like girls, you don't need to be messing with that. You're just asking for trouble. If you're curious, well, there are some places you can go. Better you get your whistle licked once and know than to start...fixating on it. Now I'm not saying you should do that. I'd rather you didn't. But you're a grown man now and if you need to get this out of your system, do it now before you're married and make a mistake. I can abide experimenting, I can't abide cheating." 

Bucky considered the absurdity of what his father had just said and he found that he had gone bright red. How casual and yet so...cold. He wasn't sure what to say.

"You've always been a flirt, Buck," Pa said, patting him on the back. "Sometimes flirts don't know what trouble they're talking their way into."

Bucky finished his drink and went back home to Steve. Steve was on the couch, poured over his notebooks with a cup of tea in one hand and a dull pencil in the other. He seemed oblivious to Bucky's entrance until he heard the door close.

"Hey," Steve greeted. "How's Jim?"

"Good," Bucky replied. "Sends his condolences. How you feeling?"

"Better," Steve said. "I actually feel bad for how much better I feel. I'm getting a lot of work done today. I guess a broken heart is good for the muse."

"Can I see?"

"Go for it."

Bucky looked at the first few sketches, amused as he noticed the detail become less and less fine as the pencil wore down. There were his sisters, bunched together as they hugged and smiled. Almost looked like a bouquet of flowers, all pretty and fresh in their little dresses, ribbons in their hair. A study of Pa on the back stoop, his shoes just beside his feet, cigarette in hand. 

The dullest one, the one clearly worked on most recently, was one of Bucky. He was used to that. He was around so much that Steve constantly had a live figure to work with when needed. But this one was Easter almost two years ago. It was Bucky out in the slushy alley; kicking and breaking anything he could get his hands on. Bucky nearly didn't recognize himself.

"I'm not going to submit that one," Steve promised. "I just wanted to do some muscle practice. It's been awhile since I've been in a fight, thanks to you. I forgot what a punch looked like. Something I never thought I'd get to say."

Bucky was about to say he could turn it in, but stopped. He didn't feel proud of that moment and he didn't want anyone other than Steve to see him like that.

"I should take you to the gym," Bucky said finally. "You'd get a better look at muscles there, help you with your practice."

"We'll trade," Steve offered with a weak smile. "You teach me how to box and I'll teach you how to draw."

"That sounds good, Stevie. I'm going to bed. Long day."

"I'll wake you up for dinner, enjoy your nap."

Bucky lay awake in bed, his head too full. When Steve came to wake him, Bucky pretended to be asleep. He could tell Steve wasn't buying it, but he left him in peace.


	8. 1938-9

**1938**

It wasn't often that Bucky and Steve went to the movies by themselves anymore, but this one Bucky particularly wanted to see with him. Steve was burning out in his last semester of art school and Bucky thought this was just the thing to bring him out of it. _Snow White and the Seven Dwarves_. 

Steve was in awe the entire thing, whispering thoughts about the animation throughout the movie. He gasped, he sighed, and Bucky spent almost the entire film just watching his face lit up by the screen. He talked about it the whole ride home, filled with new ideas and inspiration. Bucky watched him, grinning. 

The next day Steve got sick and went down hill quickly. Bucky spent his days either at work or by his bedside. He took Steve's homework back and forth, swearing to his friend that he was going to finish his diploma. 

When Steve's bronchitis turned to pneumonia, Bucky was terrified and refused to be away from him. Steve convinced him to go to work, but he didn't take any extra shifts. He started sleeping in his bed, trying to keep him warm from the harsh winter. Steve tried to warn him that he might get sick too, but he didn't care. This wasn't going to be the winter that got him, not now. 

Eventually in the early spring, Steve started to turn around and went back to classes. All of Bucky's family went to his graduation ceremony, cheering him on. Steve went bright red crossing the stage, hearing Bucky whistle. 

Though he couldn't really afford it, Bucky took him out to celebrate. Dancing, drinks, dames, the whole works. But both tired from their draining few months, they eventually made excuses to their dates and just went back home. Though he didn't need to anymore, Bucky curled up in bed with Steve, holding him close. 

A few weeks later, Steve got a job for a newspaper doing cartoons. He picked up a few little gigs here and there, starting to help out. Steve still referred to it as their money, their budget. Bucky liked the idea, mostly because it let him spend money on Steve that normally he would protest. 

Once they settled in for the summer, things went back to normal. Bucky started going back out on dates, seeing this one girl Daisy for a few months in the fall before she dumped him. That was normal; usually girls left Bucky instead of the other way around. What was unusual was that he felt relieved. 

***

Bucky overheard at work that the club he and Steve had been to five years ago had been raided. He grew quiet, listening in to the details. Now that the mob was no longer protecting pansy bars, the places were getting picked off one by one.

The one almost cheered. "It'll be good when the Village finally gets cleaned out of those fairies. I don't agree with everything those Huns do, but at least they're keeping perverts like that in line."

Bucky managed to get a few feet from the line before he threw up. His manager sent him home with a warning and Bucky spent the afternoon in bed, alternating between shivering and sweating. When he felt like he could make it to the lobby, he grabbed their address book and put his coins in the phone.

He tried three times, but Rob's line was disconnected. 

**1939**

They went to the World's Fair by themselves, the pair pleased to have a day just the two of them. As they walked, Steve's hand brushed against his and he thought of that day on Coney Island with the two men. He'd seen couples like that often enough when he was a teen, but when was the last time he'd seen one? 

A man looked at them with mild disgust and Bucky stepped slightly to the side, increasing the space between them. If Steve noticed, he was wise enough not to say anything.

***

Bucky had been dating a girl when his sister got engaged, but he broke up with her just before the wedding. When Becca asked him why, he told her it wasn't that serious and he didn't want to bring a girl who was just going to become a stranger in pictures.

Becca was engaged to a navy man who was going to bring her out to Hawaii after their honeymoon. Derek was a nice guy, though he was seven years older than her. It was a short engagement, just a few months. 

Steve helped out more than Bucky did, if they were both being honest. Steve had an eye for detail and more artistic ability in his pinkie than Bucky could ever manage. But Bucky pitched in, him and Steve paying for all the flowers. Since Derek was on a week's leave and had little family, both Bucky and Steve stood up with him at the wedding. 

It was small, but it was lovely. Bucky stayed up late into the night drinking and dancing until Steve practically dragged him back home, fairly sloshed himself. The two giggled as they tried to make their way up the stairs to their apartment, Steve dropping their keys at least twice.

Once the door was open, Bucky picked up Steve and carried him over the threshold. Steve hit him a few times with a bouquet he had stolen from one of the bridesmaids. Bucky laughed and put him back on his feet. 

"Never carried you over when I brought you home the first time," Bucky said. "Had to make up for lost time."

"You only get to carry me like that when you've made a honest woman of me," Steve teased. "What would my mother say if she saw me living in sin with you? She'd say it was no way for a proper Catholic to live."

"Tell me your ring size and I'll see what I can do."

Steve giggled and headed towards the bedroom. Bucky put some water into a jug before resting the flowers inside of it. Bucky followed Steve and curled up into bed beside him.

"You're going to press them?" Bucky yawned. 

"In the morning. I'd break them now."

"With those beautiful little hands of yours, doll? Never."

"Buck?"

"Yeah, punk?"

"You're in my bed."

"You're on the left side of the room. That's my bed."

"Shit, you're right. Okay, move over so I can get up."

Bucky protested, bringing Steve to him. "Nah, too comfy. You get to stay here. You brought this on yourself."

Steve snuggled into him and Bucky smiled, running his fingers through his hair. It didn't take either of them long to fall asleep.

Bucky got up first, his shift starting soon. He untangled himself, trying not to wake Steve. Once he was out of bed, he hesitated before bending down to kiss Steve's forehead. The blond smiled in his sleep before rolling over.

***

Bucky bought Steve a ring as a joke for his birthday. It was technically a school ring from their high school and a fairly cheap one, but Bucky went through the production of bending his knee before presenting it. 

He thought Steve would laugh, but Steve stormed out of the apartment and didn't return until the next day. When he returned, Bucky pleaded to forgive him for whatever he did and Steve refused to talk about it. 

Bucky pawned the ring and bought a record player. He set it up while Steve was at work and waited patiently for him to get home. When Steve entered the apartment, Bucky put the needle down. As the music began to play, Bucky stretched out his hand to him.

Steve closed the door and accepted his offer, letting Bucky led them into a slow dance. 

Steve murmured, "I was thinking...I was thinking maybe I should move out."

"You can't afford your own place," Bucky protested. "And we're doing well here. Both got plenty to eat, go out to the pictures every weekend, new clothes. We're both living better now than we would be apart."

"I'm holding you back," Steve protested. 

Bucky laughed. "From what?"

"From getting married." 

Bucky's heart sank in his chest as Steve continued, "Look, I know we've been joking around with how we're living, but this isn't..."

"Are you at a loss for words?" Bucky teased. "I don't think I've ever seen that."

Steve smiled nervously. "You've got a way of making me tongued-tied."

"I'm happy like things are, Steve," Bucky reassured. "I like living with you and when I'm not a jerk, you seem to like living with me. So why do we have to go and change things when we don't need to?"

"Because one day you're going to break my heart," Steve murmured. "And it won't be your fault. You'll fall in love and get really started with your life instead of just dancing in the kitchen with me."

He wanted so badly to kiss him. He wanted to kiss away the tears just spilling onto his cheeks. He wanted to promise him that he would never leave him, that he was the only one he needed in his life.

But there was much that could not be said. They were both dancing around the actual words that could finally expose what the other was thinking. 

"But what if I'm happy dancing in the kitchen with you?" He asked.

Steve said nothing, burying his head into Bucky's shoulder. When the song ended, Bucky pulled away and kissed his hand before going back to the stove. Steve stood behind him, his hands on Bucky's hips.

Steve whispered into his skin. "I can't be your girl, Buck."

Steve kissed his shoulder and let go, leaving the room. 

They started going on double dates again shortly after. Bucky sold the record player to help pay for the sudden expenses of drinking and dancing and nice clothes. Steve seemed relieved and Bucky tried his best to give him some space.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: My Grandma saw 'Snow White and the Seven Dwarves' during it's first run. When I asked her how it was, her only response was a shrug and "It was okay."


	9. 1940

**1940**

Bucky became an uncle just before his 23rd birthday. He went over to his parents' place with cigars to celebrate, dragging Steve along with him. It had gotten easier again between the two of them and that strange tension between them had once again lessened. As long as it remained untouched, it was just as it had always been.

Ma decided to try to set up Helen and Steve, claiming that it would be so sweet for two childhood friends to marry. Helen had just started working as a secretary at the ammunitions factory and Bucky suspected his mother just wanted her married and protected in the workplace. 

The winter was nearly over and both had been grateful that it had seemed to spare Steve. Yet as March settled into Brooklyn, the same old illness settled into Steve's lungs. He had been sick before, usually a week or two at a time and while it scared them both, there was a sense each time that it would pass and Steve would be weakened, but back on his feet within the month.

This time Steve ended up in the hospital.

Steve couldn't fight the infection, even though they pumped him full of every drug they thought might help. Bucky reassured his doctor again and again that it didn't matter what it cost, even though he was calculating their future bills in his head. It didn't matter. He'd work 80-hour weeks if it meant that Steve made it. It was only fear that they would toss him out that Bucky actually went to work. He wanted to be by his bedside constantly, but Steve was being kept away from others and not allowed visitors. 

Bucky couldn't sleep more than a few hours at a time and phoned the hospital twice a day just to make sure Steve was still breathing. By the end of April, the infection had cleared but his lungs would take a long time to fully function again, if they ever did. Bucky brought Steve home to their apartment and bathed him the best he could in the shower. He was so skinny it nearly broke his heart.

"I'm so sorry, Steve," Bucky whispered. "I should have been there for you. I missed you so much. I can't imagine..."

Steve started crying and Bucky pulled a towel around him before holding him tight. His sobs were hoarse and broken and Bucky tried to soothe him, even just to stop him from further damaging his chest.

"I was so alone," Steve confessed. "A nurse would see me every few hours, but she never talked to me, Buck. They were all scared I'd get them sick. I kept thinking...I kept thinking this was how Mom died. That they should run from me, should leave me just to die so I didn't hurt anyone else. But I wanted them there too. I needed to hear someone else's voice, needed someone to talk to me, to touch me...I felt like I was invisible and there was just this thing...it was just this machine and me and I hated that sound so much. Once the doctor told me you weren't allowed to see me and I thought I was going to lose my mind. I needed you and I knew...I consciously knew that you couldn't see me, but I kept thinking that this was when you gave up on me, that I had finally lost you." 

Bucky kissed his forehead and brushed his wet hair from his eyes. 

"I'm with you until the end of the line," Bucky whispered, tears flowing down his own face. "I will never abandon you, Steve. I would do anything for you. I'm not leaving you, not now, not ever. I've been saving every cent I could. I'm making a down payment tomorrow at the hospital. I should be able to pay it off within the year. Pa's pitching in some money and Derek too. So don't worry about that. You tell me what I can do for you right now. How can I make you feel better?"

"Stay with me," Steve pleaded. 

Bucky carried him into the bedroom, laying them both down in his bed. Bucky wrapped his arms around him and Steve snuggled into him, desperate for his touch. Bucky felt the same, aching for his skin against his. He wanted Steve to understand how much he needed him, knowing there were no words to explain how utterly devoted he was to him.

He realized then how badly he wanted to kiss him, but he let the thought go, as he had practiced for so long. But it surfaced again and again, taunting him.   
Steve entangled himself in him, his breath shaky and shallow. Bucky cradled him in his arms, so grateful to be able to hold him again.

"I love you," Bucky whispered.

Steve smiled into his shirt. "I love you too, Buck."

Bucky heard the difference then, just as he had years ago when Steve first came to live with him. Steve said it with ease. It was practiced, a reflex, not a confession. It was not how Bucky meant it, but he wasn't strong enough to say anything else. 

***

Steve spent the next two months in bed and Bucky did everything he could to make him comfortable. He worked every single shift he could manage and it was barely enough. Bucky made sure that there was always someone visiting, determined to make sure Steve was never alone unless he wanted to be. 

Every night, Bucky would come home to find Steve on the couch wrapped in a dozen blankets, a cup of tea in his hands as one of their many neighbours sat in with him. Whoever it was would leave shortly after Bucky arrived. Some of the older women left them something to eat, but that was a rare treat. Usually Bucky would make something small and they would eat on the couch together, chatting about their days. Bucky would help him wash, though he slowly grew strong enough that he could handle most of it on his own. Then they would go to bed, sharing Bucky's tiny mattress. Though it was getting hot outside, Bucky didn't care. He needed to keep him warm and he needed to hear his soft breathing.

On Steve's birthday he was strong enough to have a party at the Barnes' house. Dozens of people came and he was utterly spoiled by friends. Bucky stood at the side of the room, exhausted from the long months and allowing himself a moment's respite while Steve was being cared for. 

Steve would eventually start getting better and by the fall was working again for a few hours a week. But he didn't stop sleeping in Bucky's bed.


	10. 1941

**1941**

Steve had dragged Bucky along to his art class with the empty promise of being able to see naked beautiful women. When it turned out to be a still life drawing class and not a life drawing class, Bucky scowled but agreed to finish the course. It was a harmless way to spend a Sunday afternoon and there were still a few cute girls who were students. He half-heartedly flirted with them, but it was hard not to just watch Steve in his element. The punk's look of determination always slayed him and it was nice to see it in battle against a piece of art instead of a stronger man's fists.

Their fifth lesson fell on December 7th and though it was starting to get cold out, Steve dragged him along to the class. Bucky agreed, only if he wore both of their winter jackets. 

During the break, someone turned on the radio. They came into the news report half way and had to wait for it to loop around again before they heard it fully. The Japanese had attacked Pearl Harbour. The United States of America was officially at war. 

Bucky sat down slowly, his hands shaking. Steve started talking with some of the other guys, asking how to enlist. Bucky felt like he was going to throw up. 

The next day they went to make sure they were registered for the draft and Steve tried to sign up, but failed his medical exam within minutes. Bucky was so grateful, knowing that the scar tissue in his lungs had just saved Steve's life. 

But Steve was determined and demanded that Bucky bring him with the gym with him every day until he could try the medical exam again. Bucky knew it wouldn't help, but he also better than to argue with Steve Rogers. So he brought him to Goldie's, even though he went only twice a week now if he was lucky. 

On December 8, Bucky received confirmation that his sister and family were safe, having been away for the weekend further inland. 

On December 19, Bucky received his Order to Report for Induction. He poured himself a drink and sat, turning it over in his hands again and again. 

He left a note for Steve and walked back to his family home. He didn't acknowledge anyone other than Pa who knew from the look on his face what had happened. The pair went upstairs to Bucky's childhood bedroom and Bucky broke into tears. Pa held him, rubbing his back like when he was small.

"You'll be alright," Pa promised. "You're a strong boy and a smart one. It won't be long. You'll probably be barely finished base camp when it’s over."

"I don't want to go," Bucky pleaded.

"I know," Pa murmured, "but you have to and I think you know that, otherwise you wouldn't have come over here."

"What if I don't make it back?" Bucky asked.

Pa took a deep, shaky breath. "We can't think like that, Buck. You gotta go in knowing you're going to come back home. You just keep training at the gym and you make sure you get enough food and sleep."

"When you..."

It was something Bucky had never asked his father before. Pa had served in the military only at the tail end of the war. Bucky had been born weeks before his draft letter came in and he was back before Bucky cut his first tooth.

"I was scared shitless," Pa admitted, "but mostly about your Ma and you. I didn't know what would happen to the two of you."

"Pa, about Steve..."

"He tried to enlist right? For such a smart kid he can be a real idiot. They didn't take him, did they? They can't be that desperate."

Bucky shook his head. "No. But Pa, he can't make rent on his own and if he gets sick again like when he was in the hospital...Pa, I can't go unless I know he's going to be okay. I'm not going to abandon him."

Pa's hand faltered slightly against his back. "You know he's always got a home here with us, Buck. I'm not going to let him starve to death."

"Thank you," Bucky whispered.

"When you going for your exam? Tomorrow?"

Bucky nodded.

Pa squeezed him tight. "We'll tell them tomorrow then. Give you some time to get used to all of this. It'll be all right, Buck. I promise you that." 

Bucky knew it was an empty promise, but it was still comforting.

***

Bucky prayed he had a heart murmur or anything else that might exempt him from fighting, but it turned out he was perfectly healthy. His recruiter came in afterwards, giving him information about what would happen next. He'd be shipped out by Wednesday to training, depending on where he was assigned. 

"Can I make a request?" Bucky swallowed hard. "I'd like to be assigned to the 107th infantry, Sir."

"Any particular reason why, Barnes?" 

Bucky said, "My friend is too sick to fight, but his father served in the 107th. I'd like to honour that, if I could."

"I'll see what I can do." 

***

Bucky got a phone call less than a few hours later that he would be allowed to train for the 107th and that he was expected in Wisconsin in two days time. Doing the math, Bucky realized he'd have to leave first thing in the morning in order to catch a train to get him there on time.

It was near eight at night and he thought about going to his folks, but was too scared to. He didn't want to see his mother or his sisters cry. 

He hung up the phone and went back upstairs to their apartment. Steve was just cleaning up the dishes, humming to himself. 

Steve turned to glance at him. "Everything okay, Buck? You look pale."

"Come sit with me," Bucky said quietly. "There's something I need to tell you."

When Bucky finished his confession, Steve murmured, "I need a drink."

Bucky laughed. "Me too." 

They drank and talked about their childhood together, old memories coming to the surface further down the bottle. 

"You remember when we went to go see Snow White?" Steve asked.

Buck nodded. "I remember. You couldn't take your eyes off the screen."

"I had a dream that night about you in that casket," Steve admitted. "You had the right look. Skin white as snow, hair black as night. You even have ruby red lips. And with those blue eyes of yours...you're like something out of a fairy tale, Buck."

Steve's voice had grown softer, his lips slightly parted. He shifted slightly closer. 

"So what happened?" Bucky asked. "In your dream?"

Steve teased, "Well, I was a dwarf, of course, so I mostly sat around for the right girl to come along and steal you away."

"You wouldn't rescue me yourself, punk?" Bucky asked.

Steve took a deep breath. "Didn't think I could save you."

"Once you nearly drowned yourself rescuing me," Bucky reminded. "You're Steve Rogers. You're the bravest man I met. I don't think you'd be too chicken to even try." 

Bucky's chest tightened as their eyes met. In that heavy pause, he leaned forward, brushing his nose against his. Steve's breath grew shaky as they waited for the other to pull away, to turn back.

Bucky kissed his cheek and waited for him to react. Steve flushed and smiled. Bucky took a deep breath and kissed his lips, almost chastely. Steve gasped and put his arms around his neck. They kissed again and again, wrapping themselves around the other. They tumbled onto the floor and Bucky pulled Steve on top of him to protect his frame from the boards. Bucky realized he was growing hard the same instant that Steve noticed too. 

Steve pulled away and ran to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Bucky went after him, pleading to be let in.

"I'm sorry," he begged. "I'm sorry. Please, Steve, talk to me. I'm so sorry, punk-"

Steve hissed through the door. "Don't call me that ever again, do you hear me?"

"Stevie...I'm sorry."

There was no reply. Bucky went back to the living room and lay on the couch, burying his hand in his hands. What had he done? How could he be so stupid? It was his last night before boot camp and he had to spend it destroying the most important relationship in his life. He had just ruined it all with a kiss.

It seemed an eternity before the door opened again. Bucky jumped to his feet, heartbroken to see that Steve had been clearly crying. 

"I tried," Steve whimpered, tears streaming down his face. "I tried not to. But it's you. It's always been you. I didn't want to, but I couldn't..."

Steve hugged him, burying his face in his shoulder. Bucky put his arms around him, clinging on just as desperately. Bucky could pretend he had been drunk, that this was all some elaborate and cruel joke at his friend's expense. But it was beyond all that now, especially when their time was running out.

Bucky whispered, "I'm in love with you."

Steve pulled away. "Don't be an asshole."

"Steve-"

"I mean it, quit it. This isn't funny."

"I wouldn't lie to you, Steve. Especially not about something like this."

Steve leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. "I know you wouldn't."

Bucky swallowed. "Should I go?"

Steve shook his head. "This is your place. I'll head for the Y."

"No," Bucky protested. "This is our home, not just mine. I'll go stay with my folks and just get up early for the train. You stay here. I don't want you going out when it’s this cold out anyways."

"Then you should stay too," Steve said. "You shouldn't get sick right now. You'll need all of your strength the next few months."

Bucky said softly, "No, I'll go. Just let me get my things."

Bucky packed up a bag of clothes and little else and headed towards the door. Before he left, Steve stopped him and took off the St. Francis of Assisi medallion around his own neck and placed it on Bucky.

The old friends smiled at each other weakly before Bucky left.

***

His Ma cried so hard Bucky thought she might break. Everyone wanted to stay up all night with him, but Pa eventually convinced them to give him a bit of peace.

Pa took him to the train station, not commenting on Steve's absence nor the fact that Bucky was wearing a Catholic symbol around his neck. His father embraced him and kissed his face before letting him climb onto the train alone. 

The car was full of men his age, looking just as scared shitless. It was the only thing that made him hold back from breaking into tears. If one of them did, the whole car would be a hysterical mess.


	11. 1942

**1942**

When Helen announced she was getting married to a GI about to ship out, Bucky immediately asked for a weekend's pass. He'd been at camp for eight months and he was incredibly homesick. Someone higher up seemed to take pity on him and he was allowed a 48-hour pass, barely enough to just make it to the wedding and back, but he was incredibly grateful. 

The wedding was even smaller than Becca's but it was still beautiful. The reception was held in the church basement. A record player instead of a band. Pot luck, not a real sit down dinner. But neither Helen or her new husband seemed to mind, they were just lost in their own world. 

Steve was across the room, shyly chatting with a girl who seemed only mildly interested. She made a polite excuse and left. Steve sighed and glanced around, only to see Bucky. There was a long pause but Steve made the first move and walked over to him. 

"Congratulations," Steve said, sticking out his hand.

Bucky shook it, careful not to let the gesture linger. 

"You look good," Steve said. "Training's been treating you okay?"

"Yeah," Bucky agreed. "I guess so. You've been doing well? It was a rough winter."

Steve smiled. "Fine. First with pneumonia for a while, but I handled it fine. Even got my drafts done still. That little board you got me did wonders, being able to work in bed and all."

Bucky swallowed. "You're okay, though?"

"I'm fine," Steve promised. "You?"

He smiled. "You already asked me that, Stevie."

Steve blushed and Bucky's heart raced.

"Listen...can we talk?" Bucky asked. "About..."

Steve whispered, "Not here. After."

Bucky nodded. "I'll stay at our place? I guess...I guess it's your place now."

"You'll be home in six months," Steve reminded.

"I didn't know if I was still welcome."

Steve said quietly, "We'll talk later, remember? You just enjoy the party. Go meet a pretty girl or something. You're good at that."

It wasn't meant to be an insult, but it still stung. Of course Steve didn't know that he'd been thinking about him every day he was gone. Didn't know that he held on tight to Steve's St. Francis of Assisi medallion. He talked about him every day, attributing the stories to different friends, hoping no one would notice there was one man who was his entire life. In the rare nights off, Bucky went to bars with the others, sure, but he didn't so much as look at a dame. 

Bucky danced with a few of his sister's friends, many of them making eyes at him. He was friendly and flirted a little, playing the part, but his mind was elsewhere. When it was late enough and he could claim to be too drunk to stay, he said his goodbyes to his folks, promising to come over for breakfast before he had to head back. 

Steve and Bucky walked back home together. Bucky could have sworn he felt Steve's hand brush against his and hope trickled through him.

Once they got back in their apartment, Steve locked the door. Bucky sat on the couch, waiting for him to sit beside him. Steve did so, sitting as far away as possible.

"I missed you," Steve said softly.

"Me too."

Bucky put his arm around him and Steve leaned into him. It was a friendly gesture, but an intimate one so he held back on anything else.

"Steve," he murmured, "I can't go that long without you again. I've never been more than a few weeks away from you since we were kids. Eight months nearly broke my heart. I get if...I miss my friend. Maybe we could write to each other or something. Get to know each other again, maybe. I don't know. I just can't do this."

"Me neither."

Steve took his hand in his. "I'll write you every day."

"We can't afford the postage, you don't have to do that."

At the word "we", Steve smiled slightly. They were still thinking of themselves as a shared budget, a household.

"I want to," Steve said. "It'll help me not go so stir crazy. It was bad with the pneumonia, no one around but just me and my thoughts. I kept thinking about you and it was driving me bonkers. All sorts of stuff. When we were young, what you were doing and if you were safe, jokes I'd heard and I thought you'd like. And...you know, that night. Hard to stop thinking about that."

"Yeah," Bucky agreed. "I get it."

They looked deep into each other's eyes and Bucky longed to kiss him, but held back. Steve shuffled closer until his legs were almost in Bucky's lap.

"So what happens now?" Steve asked.

"What do you want to happen?"

"Well, I'm still trying to enlist-"

"Steve," Bucky groaned.

"No, listen. If they let me in, I'll try to get in the 107th and we can be together. I've heard people don’t care as much about people like us in the army. It'd be safer than Brooklyn, at least for that."

"And if you don't get in?" Bucky asked. 

Steve sighed. "I don't know. I don't want to just sit around while you're fighting."

"But the war's not going to last forever," Bucky said, "and hopefully I'll come back."

"You better," Steve said angrily. 

Bucky smirked. "I'll try my best. What happens then?"

"I don't know," Steve admitted. "It's not like anything I can happen, right? It'd be easier if one of us were a girl. We could just get married and have a couple of kids. Things would be normal, nice."

"Yeah," Bucky agreed, "but..."

He left the word hanging and Steve swallowed hard. 

"Maybe we just take it one day at a time for now?" Steve suggested. "I'll write to you and we'll figure it out when you get back. Maybe whatever this is will be over by then. You'll meet someone and things will be normal again. Then we can just laugh about this years from now."

While Bucky hated the idea of being with anyone else, he had to agree. It was probably easier if they just moved on and fixating on this only made it worse. If they acknowledged it and let it pass its natural course, it might be easier for them both. 

"Okay, but you better go dating too," Bucky said. "Go meet someone sweet."

Steve shifted fully into his lap then and Bucky looked up at him in adoration. He brushed Steve's hair out of his eyes and held his face in his hands. Steve leaned in and kissed him, just a little brush of his lips against his. Bucky pressed his forehead against his and Steve put his arms around his neck.

"I've got to get some sleep," Bucky murmured. "Take advantage of a real bed for the first time in months, right?" 

"Sleep in mine," Steve said. "I want it to smell like you when you're gone." 

Bucky kissed him lightly, sighing. "Okay."

They got ready for the night and lay down in Steve's bed. Bucky held him close, curling his body around his. Despite the warm summer night, they snuggled in close to each other, desperate for the feel of the other.

Bucky slept better than he had in months.

***

Steve had breakfast with the family and went with him to the train station. They said little, so much hanging between them. They hugged tightly, Bucky sneaking a kiss on his cheek before letting go.

Bucky watched Steve as the train picked up steam, pulling out of the station. Steve waved weakly and Bucky wanted to cry.

He leaned back in his seat and hid behind a newspaper while he recovered. He couldn't have anyone asking him what was wrong. He was so heart sick he might actually tell someone. 

***

He had been back at camp for two weeks before he heard his name at mail call. He grabbed his letters eagerly, hiding them in his jacket until he was alone in bed. He recognized his mother's writing on one envelope and a postcard from his sister on her honeymoon. He put these to the side, holding a letter from Steve. He opened it slowly, terrified of what it might say.

Bucky unfolded it and a smile slowly broke across his face. The first page was a cartoon about the stray cat in their neighbourhood, who apparently had become best friends with the little girl who lived underneath them. An actual letter followed with all the gossip Bucky could have possibly missed and details about Steve's day-to-day life. But it was the final paragraph that struck him hard.

 _I can't wait for you to come back, Buck. Our home isn't the same without you. I miss you._

***

Three weeks before he was meant to be sent home, Bucky was informed that with his knack at mastering firearms, he was to remain an extra six months in order to be trained as a sniper. He tried to protest, but there was little he could do. He wrote home to let them know, trying to hide his disappointment.

His father wrote back: _At least I know you'll still be alive for six months._

Steve's letter in return was long and elegant; each word carefully written as if he knew it would smear otherwise in the rain. Bucky read it almost every day, only putting it aside when he received a new one from him. 

_Tonight it's cold and I'm using your blankets as well as mine. I hope you don't mind too much. They're thinner than mine. You always keep me warm. I always think of you in winter, Bucky. I think of when the snow lands in your dark hair and your fair cheeks turn pink. That little blue jacket you must have been wearing since high school and that hat Livy knit for you when she was twelve. The scarf your ma bought for you because she thought it brought out your eyes. I think of you coming in the door, hearing your boots come off. Your skin smells so sweet in winter; I don't know what it is. You usually hold me closer then, maybe that's why I notice it. Long nights sleeping beside you with your arms around me. You look so beautiful then, the fairest in all the lands._

_I miss you in winter, Buck. Every time that door opens and you're not on the other side. Every time I wake up alone. Every time I see your jacket on its hook with your hat and scarf._

_I thought I would get the chance to talk to you before they ship you off and I hope I still do, but talking to your father has made me worried. It wouldn't be the first time a soldier got sent to war without getting to say goodbye. God, I can't even write it down. I think you know what I want to say, but I don't want someone to read this and get you into trouble and if I write it in French or something people will think you're a spy and that's even worse._

_So I guess I just have to say it and hope you tear this up or burn it._

_I love you. And if you still feel the same when you get back home, well, I'm in if you are, Barnes. Until the end of the line._


	12. 1943

**1943**

After six months of intensive training, Bucky was finally allowed to go back to Brooklyn. He'd have only a few days before he had to get on a boat and cross the Atlantic and every hour felt almost like a burden. He needed to cram in as much as possible, needed to see the people he loved and hold them, needed to eat at his favorite places, go see a ball game, anything that he might cling onto when he was forced to go through hell alone. Every memory could help save his life and he didn't want to waste a single moment.

So when his train was two hours late arriving at Grand Central Station, he felt like he was having a heart attack. This was two hours he wasn't getting back, two hours he could have been eating dinner with his family or sleeping in his own bed. Two hours utterly wasted because of civil engineering.

The panic faded as the train finally arrived. Bucky grabbed his bag and practically fled to the platform where miserable people waited for their very late loved ones. It was near ten at night and he figured he'd have to call for a cab since his folks probably thought he wasn't getting in any more.

But across the way, his eyes met Steve's. Bucky dropped his bag and ran to him, scooping him up in his arms. If they had been alone, Bucky would have kissed him, but he restrained himself.

"Come on," Steve said, pulling away. "Let's go home."

***

The cab dropped them off outside their apartment building and Bucky paid. Steve brought his bag up to their place, leaving Bucky to phone his family to let them know that he had arrived safe and sound and he'd be over first thing in the morning. When he was done, he went back upstairs, his heart aching in his chest. He hadn't been alone with Steve in months. He had no idea what was about to happen next.

Bucky came into the apartment and shut the door behind him, locking it. They glanced at each other before Steve started putting away his things, letting Bucky have a beer and sit at the table. Steve then did the dishes and slowly did every other possible household task while Bucky drank as slow as possible, both trying to delay the conversation.

When Steve could no longer procrastinate, he leaned against the kitchen counter, still keeping some distance between them.

Bucky stood. "Steve, we don't have to-" 

"I meant what I said. I'm in love with you," Steve whispered.

Bucky smiled, knowing he must look like a dope. "Yeah?"

Steve returned his grin. "Yeah."

Bucky kissed him, cradling him in his arms. Steve kissed back harder, his fingers gripping into Bucky's uniform. Bucky took it off, tossing it to the floor. He sat Steve on the counter and Steve wrapped his thighs around him. Bucky started to grind himself into him when Steve put his hands on his chest.

"We can't," Steve said, shaking his head. "It's not right."

Bucky felt crestfallen and Steve clarified, "No, not...I think it's okay to be like we are, as okay as it is to do anything human. But...God, this is going to sound so stupid."

Bucky stroked his cheek. "What is it, Stevie?"

Steve looked away. "We're not married."

Bucky tried hard not to laugh, but it seemed too absurd. His adorable little Catholic boy was fine having sex with a man, but not okay with having sex outside marriage. 

"I know," Steve sighed. "I know, I know. I'm being an idiot."

"You're not," Bucky said sincerely. "If there was a way, I would do it. You know I would. I love you. You are my soul mate and my other half. If that doesn't make me yours in the eyes of God, I don't know what else could." 

Steve kissed him so tenderly he thought it might break his heart. Bucky picked him up and brought him into the bedroom, only letting him down to his feet when they reached Bucky's bed.

Bucky knelt in front of Steve, taking his hand in his. He kissed every one of his fingers softly, looking deep into his eyes. Bucky undid Steve's belt and slipped his pants down. He kissed up his legs and Steve started giggling once he got to his inner thighs.

Bucky grinned up at him as he slid down his underwear. Steve kicked everything off and Bucky went back to his kisses, hesitating when he got close to his groin. He had done this on girls and he imagined it would be a bit like that, even if the parts looked different. He took a deep breath before taking Steve into his mouth. He grew thicker and harder as Bucky sucked and licked, his techniques useless with this anatomy. Steve didn't seem to mind, wrapping his thighs around him, grasping at his hair. His little pants egged him on and Bucky kept going, reaching forward to stroke the parts his mouth couldn't reach. It was so strange touching another man's cock, but he liked it. 

Steve moaned quietly, biting his lip. Bucky looked up at him and felt his own cock throbbing heavily in his pants. Steve looked so beautiful, so flushed and healthy. He would do anything for him to be this happy.

He whispered, "Buck, you should stop. I'm not going to last and I don't want to...you know, make a mess on you, especially with what you got on." 

Bucky withdrew reluctantly and rose. He stripped out of the rest of his uniform and Steve took off the last of his clothes. He had seen Steve naked a hundred times and he had always thought him a handsome man, but in this context he couldn't keep his hands to himself. He wanted every inch of his skin on his. He wanted to kiss every part of him and have Steve whimper in his ear. He wanted to make him feel such bliss that he never doubted against how utterly loved he was. 

Bucky knelt over him on the bed and they kissed hungrily, Steve reaching down to stroke him. Bucky caught himself mid curse and bit down on his hand, trying to stop from crying out. He thrust against his hand eagerly, kissing him sloppily. He was only hazily aware of Steve reaching into the end table between their beds, only conscious of what was happening when Steve let go of him.

"I've just washed," Steve said anxiously. "It should be clean...there."

Bucky took the rubber from him and slid it on himself. He coated it with the Vaseline, taking his time as he was unsure what to do next.

"This ain't going to hurt you?" Bucky asked.

Steve shrugged, but his shoulders trembled. "Maybe just the first time. Shouldn't if I loosen up a bit first. I can do it, if you want."

Bucky had fingered a few girls and while he hadn't finished the job so to speak, he got what Steve was talking about. "No, let me touch you."

Steve hooked his leg around his and Bucky kissed him, pulling him closer. He lubricated a finger and reached around, touching his rim. He pushed inside slowly, the softness surprising him. He stroked him lightly, finding that there was a spot that seemed to make Steve shiver. Once Steve was biting his lip, he coated a second finger and slipped it inside him. He was so tight still, but Steve was panting hard, kissing into Bucky's shoulder. Bucky sped up his actions and Steve grinded against him, pleading almost silently for more. Bucky could tell from his face that if it were safe to do so, Steve would probably be screaming his name. 

"Are you ready?" He asked. 

Steve groaned, "Please."

Bucky slid out his fingers and Steve wrapped tighter around him. Bucky lined himself up, his heart threatening to implode, and he gently pushed himself inside. Only an inch into him and Bucky thought he might not make it. He was so tight and warm and he was looking at him with such lust Bucky thought he'd lose it right there and then. It seemed like an eternity before Bucky finally was seated in him, both of them gripping at the other desperately. Steve shuddered and bit at his ear, nipping at his skin. 

Bucky kissed him hard and started to move. Steve gasped and clung to him, throwing his arms around his neck. It took him a minute to figure out a rhythm, but by that point Steve was already quietly chanting his name. Bucky thrust into him harder, enveloped by him. All he could smell, all he could taste and feel was the man he loved most in the world. Nothing else existed, nothing else mattered but him. 

Steve whispered in his ear, "I love you. I love you so much." 

Steve reached down between them and started to stroke himself. Bucky kissed down his chest, taking a hard nipple into his mouth. Steve arched his back, clenching down around him. Bucky pounded into him, crying out. Steve gushed onto their bellies and Bucky kept going, seeking his own release desperately. Steve kissed him hungrily, his fingers digging into his skin. 

His peak hit him hard and he slammed into him, gasping. Steve kissed him before Bucky could scream, anchoring him to earth even as his pleasure nearly tore him from his body. 

Once Bucky was back in control, he kissed him tenderly and withdrew to toss out the rubber and bring back a wet towel to clean them both up with.

"Are you okay?" Bucky asked. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Steve grinned and shook his head. "I'm going to feel it tomorrow, but you definitely did not hurt me." 

"I love you," Bucky whispered, pressing his forehead against his. 

"I love you too," Steve murmured.

Steve swallowed hard. "So what happens now?"

Bucky smiled. "We spend the rest of our lives together, punk."

The old pet name slipped out and Bucky immediately apologized, but Steve shook his head. "I missed you calling me that."

Bucky nuzzled against him. "We'll move out of this place after the war, go to the Village or some other place we can lay low. People will leave us be if we don't flaunt it. I'll find us a place with good light for your painting. I meant what I said, Steve. I'm yours. I know I can't give you much and I know you could do better than me, but I will give you everything need." 

Steve pulled himself on top of him. "All I've ever needed was you."

"You've going to have to wait a few minutes before you have me again," Bucky chuckled. "I never expected you to be so insatiable."

Steve teased, "It's our wedding night. I expected to be ravished." 

Bucky smirked. "Well, if you're needing a bit more deflowering, I can probably manage that if you keep dancing on top of me like this."

Steve grinned, that dangerous little grin of his that melted Bucky into a puddle. He kissed him and rolled him beneath him, taking Steve's cock into his mouth again. By the time Steve was a sobbing mess, Bucky was hard enough to slip on another rubber. 

"I want it harder this time," Steve begged. "I want to feel it still when you're gone. I want to ache for you."

Bucky growled and rolled him beneath him. He put his hands on Steve's hips and entered him from behind. Steve gasped and Bucky whispered, "Okay?"

Steve groaned. "More than okay."

Bucky pounded into him, watching himself disappear again and again between those sweet little cheeks of his. One hand gripped the sheets and the other Steve's cock, jerking it quickly. Bucky started grunting, unable to keep quiet as the tension started building in his gut. Steve leaned into the sheets, whimpering and moaning, and forcing Bucky deeper into him. 

This time he felt when Steve came, clenching and pulsing around him, and the sensation pushed him over the edge. Their skin slapped together as Bucky thrust into him quickly, shallowly, desperate for the friction. Steve was still whispering his name almost reverentially, his voice husky. 

Bucky tossed the rubber away and fell beside him in exhaustion. They quickly decided to switch beds and lay more comfortably in the clean sheets. They snuggled into each other, not wanting to untangle even if their bodies could not handle another round. 

It was near two in the morning now and both were feeling it. Steve started falling asleep first and Bucky held him in his arms as he drifted off.

He had wanted a memory to hold on to when he went to war and it seemed he had found the perfect one.


	13. 1943-1944

**1943**

They joined Bucky's family for breakfast the next morning. Both of them were trying to act like nothing had changed between them, both trying hard not to grin at the other or hold the other's hand under the table. 

After they finished eating, Steve helped Ma clean up and Pa not so subtly dragged Bucky upstairs to the attic.

"Something you want to tell me, Buck?" Pa asked angrily.

Bucky frowned and Pa asked, "Are you screwing him?"

Bucky's heart stopped. "No."

"You're a terrible liar, son. Come on now, you tell me the truth."

"It's none of your business," Bucky snapped. 

"The two of you are all over each other, at least more than men should, and if it's obvious to me, someone else will figure it out too. I can't help you unless you talk to me, Bucky."

Bucky thought about lying, but he knew he could trust his father. If there was anyone in the world who might understand, it was him. 

"Last night we...consummated our relationship," Bucky said quietly. "We're going to live together after the war as we are. He's mine and I'm his. We spent a lot of time fighting that but I think we both deserve to be happy." 

Pa asked gruffly. "So he's your wife now, then?" 

"Don't be like that, Pa," Bucky pleaded. 

Pa sighed. "I'm sorry, Bucky, I'm just trying to get my head wrapped around it. You could have picked any girl, any girl would be happy to marry you, but you...you know I like Steve, I love him like he was my own, but this is...this is tough for me. Tell me at least you're the man, right?"

Bucky growled, "None of your business."

To his surprise, Pa smirked. "I guess not. So what are you hoping I'm going to say here, Buck? You want my blessing? Permission?"

"I want you to look after him like he was my girl," Bucky said. "If I had married some girl before I went to war, you'd take her in and keep her safe until I got home. That's all I want for him. I don't want him to be afraid or alone. I want him to be with family if something happens to me. When the war's over, you can throw us both out if you're disgusted with us, but please. Pa...I love him."

Pa flinched at the words, but he said nothing against them. "What should I tell your ma and Livy?"

"I don't care. I'm done hiding how I feel about him. You want to lie to them, you can, but I think they can handle the truth. Do you think it'd really surprise them?"

Pa shook his head. "Probably not, at least not your ma. We'll keep it quiet though until you get back. Then whenever you two...well, whatever you do, you can choose what you want to tell people then. But for God's sake, don't tell anyone over there, not even your pals. You hear me?"

Bucky nodded. "I won't." 

Pa started crying. "This isn't what I wanted for either of you. I tried and I failed you both. I should have done something, said something else, I don't know."

Bucky said quietly, "He and I were meant to be together. There was nothing you could have done. He was made for me."

Pa closed his eyes. "I can't argue with it, but I just wish it wasn't true. People like you and him don't live long anymore, Buck."

"We'll move to the Village after the war," Bucky promised, "and we'll keep our noses out of trouble. You can tell people what you want about us, whatever makes it easier for all of you."

"You shouldn't have to be hiding," Pa said, shaking his head. "Not right."

Bucky didn't know what to say. Of course it wasn't right, but it was the only way to make things work without either of them getting hurt.

"You're going to hate living on Manhattan," Pa commented.

Bucky smiled. "He's worth suffering through it."

Pa wiped his eyes. "I always thought there was no one good enough for Steve, no girl who'd really appreciate him. Never thought...I don't know. Steve's always got a home here with us, he always did. If some asshole wants to get to him, he's going to have to go through me first. I promise you that, Buck, and I promise to never tell him we had this conversation. The guy would tear us both a new one if he thought we called him a weakling, you know that."

Bucky laughed. "Yeah, he would."

"You going to buy him a ring?" Pa asked.

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck. "Didn't think it was a good idea."

"Every man's got to buy his wife a ring, son. You do it before you go. Give him something to remember you by, okay? He can wear it on his right hand or keep it in a drawer or whatever he wants. But if you do this, Buck, you gotta do it right. Treat him like he's your sun and stars, because you're not going to be getting the same support other newlyweds get. You might be on your own a lot and you need to be extra gentle to each other. If you don't have enough cash, you talk to me."

Bucky hugged his father tightly. "I love you, Pa."

Pa kissed the top of his head. "I love you, Bucky. I always have and I always will. I'm not happy that this happened, I won't lie, but I love both of you too much to throw my hands of the affair. I'm here for you, whatever comes next."

***

Ma said nothing as Bucky told her about Steve. She waited until he was finished talking before she wrapped him tightly in her arms and kissed his face.

She reassured. "It's okay. I always knew, even when you were boys. I'm just glad you get some time together before...well, before what ever happens next."

***

The ring was sterling silver and had little flair or design. It was simple, but despite Pa's offer to give him money, Bucky wanted it to buy one from his own pocket and picked the best he could afford. 

He gave it to Steve in bed that night and his face lit up. Bucky slipped it onto his right ring finger and kissed him tenderly. 

"I don't have anything for you," Steve apologized.

Bucky lifted his medallion from underneath his shirt. "This is enough for me, punk, but if you want I'll wear a ring when I get home."

Steve shook his head. "It'll look strange if we both wear one. Wouldn't be laying low like we planned."

"I've talked to my folks," Bucky said. "I know you probably don't want to hear this, but we should talk about it. If something happens to me over there, the government will send them all my pay and any compensations. I've told them that it needs to all go to you. I don't want to leave you with nothing."

"You're right, I don't want to hear it," Steve agreed. "I'm going to spend months worrying about you, just be here with me right now. Please."

Steve reached down through Bucky's pajama bottoms and started stroking him.

"You're really going to use sex to avoid talking about this?" Bucky laughed.

Steve grinned, lowering Bucky's pants. Bucky stopped laughing when Steve took his cock into his mouth. He gasped and turned on the light, desperate to see him between his legs. 

"Holy shit," Bucky whispered.

Bucky got hard quickly and Steve took him deeper, until he was almost hitting the back of his throat. Bucky restrained himself from thrusting into him, using his mouth like he might his own hand. Though so much better, so much goddamn better. He wrapped his fingers around Steve's hair, pushing him further down.

"I love you," Bucky groaned. "You look so gorgeous right now, punk."

Steve withdrew and apologized. "My jaw's getting sore."

Bucky kissed down his cheek and the curve of his chin. "Then let me make it better."

"You can make it better by being inside of me," Steve said.

"You want to ride me?" Bucky asked breathlessly. "Do that little dance on top of me like you did last night?"

Steve's eyes widened and he grabbed the Vaseline and the rubber. He wasted no time helping Bucky get ready. Bucky reached to help relax him, but Steve pushed himself down on his cock, barely holding in a cry.

Steve took what he needed from him, thrusting him into him like his life depending on it. Bucky watched his face, listened to his muted grunts, watched his beautiful skin grow pink and red. His cock grew purple with need, the head starting to leak. It was the most perfect sight he had ever seen and as unromantic as the thought was, Bucky knew this was the thing he was going to be jacking off to for however long they were going to be apart. His man riding him, mouthing his name. 

"What can I do?" Bucky groaned. 

"Take the rubber off," Steve begged. "I want to feel you, even just once."

Steve withdrew and Bucky did as he asked, coating himself with the Vaseline. Steve pushed down on him again and Bucky swore. The heat and softness was even more intense now and Steve pounded him into him. Bucky sat up, holding Steve to him as he moved. They kissed hungrily and Bucky grasped at his ass, pulling the cheeks apart to go deeper inside of him. They both cried out before covering the other's mouth with their own. Steve's cock rubbed against his stomach, so hot and heavy. 

Bucky whispered, "When I get close, do you want me to pull out?"

Steve pleaded, "No."

Bucky cursed under his breath and grasped at Steve's hips, thrusting up into him. Steve reached between them and jerked himself, his hand brushing again and again against Bucky's chest. 

Steve bit down on his other hand before spurting onto Bucky's belly. Bucky in return took over, taking Steve by the hips and pummeling him up and down his cock. His vision went white as he jutted into him, giving him every part of him. Steve kissed his neck, grunting into his ear as Bucky rode through the last of his crest. He only withdrew when he was too soft and too sensitive to remain in him.

Steve was leaking with him and the sight sent an aftershock through him.

"I'll be right back," Steve said.

Steve returned with a damp cloth and a bottle of beer for them to share. They both cleaned themselves up, though Bucky suspected Steve had done much of that on his own already. 

"When I get home, I'm going to rent us a cottage in Canada," Bucky said, "and you can scream all you want. We can make love constantly and have no neighbours that might overhear us. A real honeymoon, you and me."

Steve kissed him and Bucky melted into his touch.

"Let's go to Coney Island tomorrow like we used to," Bucky said, "then we'll have dinner at my parent's place."

"And then you'll be gone," Steve said quietly. 

Bucky whispered, "If you cry, I'll cry and I'll be sobbing all the way over to France. Please, punk, for me."

Steve kissed him. "I'd do anything for you, Buck. I'd swim after you if I could."

Bucky nuzzled into him. "Wouldn't be the first time."

***

Bucky went to the Docks with just Pa. He knew if Steve went with him Bucky would fall apart and he needed to be strong. Ma and Livy stayed with Steve as Bucky knew they too would just make him cry.

In his last moments on American soil, his father held him, shutting his eyes.

"You'll be alright, Buck," he promised. "You just keep your head down and survive. Don't be a hero over there if you don't have to. Be careful. I love you."

"I love you too, Pa," Bucky said, blinking back tears.

Pa eventually let go so Bucky could embark on the ship. Bucky waved weakly and his father waved back, standing still until the boat left the harbour. 

***

"You got anyone back home, Barnes?"

The others at the campfire turned to look at him and Bucky swallowed hard.

"No," he lied, clinging on to his medallion. "No sweetheart back home." 

**1944**

Bucky was stationed in the front lines in Germany. His skill as a sniper made him valuable, but it also placed him in some of the most dangerous arenas of the war. Bucky watched as slowly more and more of his comrades got picked off. Sometimes neatly, sometimes long and drawn out. 

On the rare times he had leave, he would drink himself stupid and phone back home, hoping Steve was there. He couldn't say much on his end, worried someone would hear him, but Steve would reassure him again and again how much he was loved. They were never long calls, neither could afford them, but between that and the letters, it was enough.

Livy got married at the end of the year at Christmas time when her fellow was given furlough. Bucky didn't get to meet the guy or attend the wedding, but Steve assured him Sam was a good man and that the ceremony was beautiful.

Not a week later he received a letter from his mother, telling him that there had been an accident at the factory. Pa was okay, but he wouldn't be able to work for some time. Steve had moved in with them to help pay the bills and to help take care of Pa while he recovered. He let go of their apartment, bringing everything to the little room where all his sisters had slept. 

Bucky wrote his father, knowing his father didn't have the hand strength to write back. He told him that he loved him and he'd be home soon.

And then on December 31st, just before midnight, Bucky's battalion was ambushed.


	14. 1945-6

**1945**

Bucky woke in a German P.O.W. camp where he stayed for two months until it was liberated by the English. He was immediately brought to hospital to examine his injuries that had been left untreated for a long time. Infection had burrowed its way into the long slice through Bucky's arm and though he had done everything he could, the gangrene was going to kill him if nothing was done.

Bucky begged for them to save his arm. He was the only one who would be working when he got home and he had three mouths to feed. The surgeon told him he would do what he could, but his arm would not be the same.

When Bucky woke from surgery, he was missing two fingers on his left hand, a chunk of the muscle in his forearm and there was horrible scarring up and down the limb where infected tissue had been cut from him. He was dizzy with the amount of drugs pumped into him and spent the rest of the week under observation and sedation until they were sure they had gotten the last of it.

They told him he was lucky. 

In March, just before his 28th birthday, Bucky arrived back in New York City, a purple heart pinned to his uniform and a few hundred dollars in his pocket. The honourable discharge papers sat uncomfortably in his jacket pocket. 

When he got on the ground, he called a cab to his parents' place. It was just after five in the morning and he wasn't entirely sure if anyone was going to be up. When the house was quiet, Bucky put his bag on the floor and made his way up to his first childhood bedroom. Steve was sleeping peacefully and though Bucky hated disturbing him, he needed to see his beautiful blue eyes again.

Bucky kissed him lightly and Steve stirred, blinking as he comprehended what he was seeing. He gasped and kissed Bucky, pulling him down into the bed. Steve felt the damage on Bucky's arm almost instantly and he helped him out of the jacket and button down shirt until he was in his undershirt. He kissed the scars tenderly as Bucky started to weep. 

"It'll be okay," Steve promised. "Everything's going to be okay. It's over, Buck. You're home and you're safe and we're together again."

Bucky kissed him and Steve held him tightly. The door opened and his parents stood on the other side. Ma started sobbing and Pa picked him up and held him, kissing him all over. Ma hugged him, burying her face in his shoulder.

"Welcome home, Bucky," she murmured. 

***

Bucky received some money from the government each month, but it trickled down to near nothing once the war was over. He was a disabled vet, sure, but there were a lot of those now and he wasn't that bad off by comparison. 

Bucky couldn't work in the factory he used to and he started looking for other work. Pa's arm was finally starting to heal, but he couldn't return to work either. Ma was taking in washings and sewing and any other task she could do to help them out. Steve was working nearly 30 hours a week for a newspaper, which was a lot for him. Bucky did what he could to make sure his time at home was restful, but he knew it was wearing him out. He needed to figure out some solution by the winter or Steve was going to work himself into an early grave.

Bucky asked around and a buddy of his from the army offered him work in a garage. Bucky had enough experience dismantling things during the war that the guy figured it was similar enough and took him under his wing. The first few months hurt as his left arm got used to doing things again. It was decent money and soon he was looking at getting a place for him and Steve, now that he almost had enough to take care of them and his parents both.

In November, Steve got a letter saying that his proposal for an art exhibit was accepted. The whole family celebrated and was there opening night at a small gallery in Brooklyn. Bucky looked at all the pieces he had created during their time away from each other and he felt so proud he thought his chest might burst. Steve had always been talented, but his portraits were now so beautiful Bucky saw complete strangers weeping at a few of them.

Steve made eight hundred dollars at that show, more money than they could fathom. They got their own place in the Village and gave money every month to Bucky's folks and visited them every Sunday for dinner. Steve worked at his art and Bucky worked in the garage while he did so, both starting to feel optimistic about what was coming next.

**1946**

Steve made over a thousand dollars at his next show and people started recognizing him in the street. He had complete strangers telling him their life stories and often afterwards he asked to paint them. He painted a lot of vets and dedicated his next show to them. Bucky didn't want any pictures of him with his damaged arm, but allowed Steve to rework the sketch of him punching the wall from years ago. He wanted to remember having a strong left arm, even if it was a weak point in his life.

Bucky stood in front of the painting, thinking of the ten years since he was in that alley way on the first Easter after Sarah died and he and Steve had gone through hell together several times over since then and yet here they were together. He realized then that this is what Sarah had been asking him on her deathbed. She had known, even before Bucky did, that he was in love with Steve. When it had happened, he'd never know. Maybe it was when he was punching that wall in the alleyway, maybe when Steve pulled him from the lake, maybe it was even when he dashed in to pull Steve from that fight. He had always loved him, in one way or another, and Steve had too. You could see it in every stroke. Anyone who looked at this painting knew that the subject was utterly loved. 

Steve came to stand beside him and risked holding his hand for a brief moment. 

"Are you okay?" Steve asked.

Bucky smiled at him. "Never better, punk."


End file.
